DWDDT5 Mind Warp
by VAPX007
Summary: It's a grim and gritty world as Negaduck tries to remake the Fearsome Four. Meanwhile, Zan Owlsen and Scrooge's attempt to help Glomgold turns quickly to nightmares and the unfinished business from Donald's college life ten years ago has finally returned... again. Follows directly on from the events of And the Rest is History Cameo from Legend of the Three Caballeros
1. Reanimatron

_A/n: No ownership, only story._

_A/n: So, this story in absolutely no way travels at ultra high velocity like the TV show trailer. Blame me, but interesting to note, a proper adult fiction story is clocked at 300,000 words. So far this story is 133,000 words and it's 'basically' done. Take that, irrationality, you suck so much get outta my brain._

_A/__n: I really like_ 'this'_ Drake Mallard. He's a beautifully flat arc'ed character._

* * *

_A/n: WARNING.  
I always feel like I have to give a warning when I bring Negaduck out to play. __It's a grim and gritty opening. __I've tried lightening up the graphics but I can't dodge the razor sharp issues here._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**66**

**Reanimatron Z10**

* * *

Jim Starling watched from the safety of his motorcycle across the street as a brunette in a lab coat fired a laser at Darkwing Duck right in front of the giant tentacle writhing, building destroying monster.

"Succotash." He watched as she hauled the limp form over to the entrance of the lot where she'd haphazardly parked her white van just opposite him.

Starling could see where this drama was going, and that was _'away'._ "Times like these I wish life had a split screen option. Do I stay and watch the squid or find out what she's up to?"

The woman dragged Darkwing inside the back of the van and closed the doors behind her.

Was a giant purple earth squid bursting up out of a construction building more interesting to watch than finding out the mad scientist's plot? Absolutely.

After a short few minutes, she stepped out the back of her van and went round to the driver's side.

"Ah, who am I kidding?" Starling flicked the ignition. "Colour me suspicious, but just where does she think she's going with _'my'_ arch nemesis?"

* * *

The van headed west against the early morning traffic to a warehouse in an industrial looking suburb called One Tree Hill. Starling parked outside of a large tiling wholesalers and headed the few doors along on foot. Security droids came zipping out to meet him and it took a short while to chainsaw them down.

Amidst a mess of electronic debris, Starling shouldered his way through the door.

"...the new guy taking over your job but... this, this is no way to... _what are you doing with that thing? ...__No, you can't do that! ...__I put '_no donation_' on my employee record!"_

Braced by the sounds of distress, Starling studied the layout of the place. He had come in on ground level, but the warehouse had been built into the side of a hill so it came out mezzanine style revealing there was a lower ground level.

Darkwing's cries were coming from the far end of this level.

_"Now what are you doing? ...__Doctor Bellum, think about what you just-argh! ...__Ah, come on! __What are you gonna do with '_that'_? ...__That's insane! ...__That's even more insane!"_

"Well, they got the hill part of the suburb right here." Starling thought abstractly to himself as he headed along the top level towards Darkwing's cries.

_"Here's an idea: '_don't kill me in the first place_'... __Do I sound dead to you?! _You haven't even _'done'_ the autopsy yet! My god, I can't believe I'm wishing for Doctor Vykes."

Starling shuddered, listening to the noise behind as he reached the door. "No mercy, huh?"

* * *

Starling kicked in the door and dove for cover as the woman whipped out her laser and tried to aim at him.

"Jim Starling? Oh, my goodness, I nearly shot you!" She holstered the laser. Why didn't you introduce yourself? I thought you were a criminal. I'm Doctor Bellum."

Straightening to a stand, Starling kept his eyes on Bellum for a moment, then looked down to Darkwing on the bed. Along with some seriously tight looking straps fixing him to the bed, there was a metal contraption around his head.

"Oo, _that..._ doesn't look pleasant." The more Starling looked the worse it appeared.  
"Not to worry about that; he's been dead over an hour."  
_"I am not dead!"_  
"Mr Starling: Introducing the Reanimatron Z10." Bellum stepped up to the other side of the bed. "It breathes, it pumps blood, given the right corpse, it can even sing operatic show tunes."  
_"I am_ not_ a corpse." _Darkwing said in a strained tone.  
"Be my guest," Bellum gestured Starling to get closer.  
Against his better judgement, Starling pushed his fingers against the metal. "Geez!" He stepped back, "It's like a rod in cement."  
"Fascinating piece of equipment, isn't it? You'd think he was actually still alive."  
"_I_ 'am'_ alive!_" Darkwing stressed.  
"Not when she takes that thing outta ya, you won't be." Starling said down to Darkwing.  
Darkwing shuddered. "Thanks, Negaduck; I knew I could rely on you for your 'feel good rhetoric'."

"You know," Starling looked back at Doctor Bellum, "He wouldn't need a 'Reanimatron' if you hadn't shot him. So why'd you do it?"  
"Obviously because it wouldn't be humane draining him of his blood while he was alive, would it?" Bellum retorted.  
"My blood..." Darkwing let out a groan, "you've taken... dizzy..."

From Darkwing's arm, Doctor Bellum removed another contraption. Starling considered it: An extractor unit with outgoing tube. "Every last drop, huh?"  
_"Give it back!"_

Starling jumped back as Darkwing gathered a sudden burst of strength and started ripping the leather straps off the bed. Bellum grabbed the Reanimatron and pressed the release. A second later, the device swung free in Bellum's hand and Darkwing was flat on the bed.

"Neat party trick, doc." Starling stared at his motionless duplicate. "Can you do that with any old corpse?"  
"Results vary." She answered. "The neural paths start degenerating from the point of death, so the fresher the better. Then you have to consider how they were when they were alive; this one clearly had a lot of intelligence; that's why he was talking. He also had a lot of stamina; that's why he tried to get back up. The Reanimatron does a wonderful job of preserving a body by reenacting the brain. But any personality you notice is only an echo."

"One heck of an echo." Starling stared at her, "So... why'd you need his blood in such a desperate hurry?"

"This way."

* * *

Doctor Bellum led him back up the corridor to a room with a large industrial computer.

He looked around at the control station. Where was the power button on this thing?

Doctor Bellum reached her arm to turn on the device.

Starling grabbed her arm from pressing the button, "Whoa, not on _'my'_ watch you don't!"  
She blinked at him, "I know you did this sort of thing on a TV set, but in real life, a coffee maker is usually just a coffee maker. I'm a professional scientist; if you want me to answer your questions, you'll let me have my coffee."

Starling stepped away from her as she pressed the button and with the familiar whirring grinding noise starting up, she put her cup under the nozzle.

_Seriously, he had to wait for this?_

"Do you want a-?"  
**"No!"** He replied heatedly as she went to the mini bar fridge and put milk in her cup, "Can you at least tell me the title on your project while you're making that thing?"  
"Super heroes." She answered, putting away the milk. She started sipping her drink. "After all, who wants to waste all their efforts on super _'villains'?_ Unfortunately, in order to achieve the desired results, the process needed a little extra kick in the right direction."  
"Plutonium?" Negaduck said dryly, watching her enjoying her coffee just a little too much for his liking.

Doctor Bellum sipped her drink. "I spent my whole childhood, dedicated to unravelling the science behind the Darkwing Duck TV show... it was rather thin on top, being a children's show, but it was surprisingly accurate."

* * *

**"I am the terror that flaps in the night."**

Starling blinked in wide-eyed shock. "Doctor Bellum, can't you kill someone right?"

Darkwing stopped at the doorway. His eyes were red as he looked up.

**"I am the spyware program that you just can't uninstall."**

"You're supposed to be dead..." Doctor Bellum deftly put her cup on the console. "That's incredible!"

"Beaten and mashed, sliced and diced, fried and de-liq...uefied..." Darkwing flinched with an expression of pain. "Doctor Bellum, I really need my blood back. Like now."  
"Oh, it's well and truly gone, I'm afraid," came her answer.

* * *

Darkwing's look of horror turned steely. He stepped in, shutting the door behind him with a click. "Then, as you said earlier to me; '_I need_ your_ blood_'."

Starling jerked in surprise. This guy was serious. "Wait, wh-?" An incredible force pushed him back against the wall, winding him.

His double moved slowly, closing in, had Bellum down in his arms. She was completely hypnotised.

"Oh, god this is terrible, how do I-argh!" Darkwing breathed, "...Like zhat, I see." With another hesitation, he lowered his head to her neck.

Starling's mind raced. When had Darkwing become a vampire or had he always been a vampire? His memory flashed back. This guy had taken a massive laser blast before; it hadn't even knocked him out. He'd had a piano dropped on his head; nothing bothered this guy!

A few swallows, Darkwing jerked away from the bite. He lowered the unconscious Bellum to the floor and knelt, staring down at her.

* * *

Starling stepped up beside them. "First time huh?"  
Darkwing nodded with a sober motion.  
Starling knelt down and placed his fingers, studying the marks on her neck. "Not too bad. You need to pull in before you pull out, though."  
"Uh, yeah..." Darkwing rubbed his head, "I was anxious... Look at you, giving me advice." He chuckled weakly.

Starling snorted and opened one of Bellum's eyes. "What did you knock her out with?"  
"A full Darkwing Duck recital," his double replied, "And a romantic evening with you."  
_"Erk!" _Starling jerked his hand back and pulled away from Bellum's side.  
Darkwing chuckled at his response.  
"Always the weird ones." Starling grumbled.

Darkwing sighed, "Did she tell you what she did with my blood?"  
"Ugh, _'no'?_ She was still drinking her coffee. She didn't turn anything else on, though, so beats me the heck where it got to."  
Darkwing groaned, "I'm so low..."  
"Don't look at me!"

_"The eldritch!"_ Darkwing jumped up with a start. "I have to get back!"

Starling jumped up as Darkwing opened the door and left the room in a rush. **"Hey!"** He yelled angrily out of the doorway up the gangway, **"Don't you dare take my bike!"  
**"I'm taking the van."  
**"Fine! You do that!"** Starling replied in the same tone.

Darkwing left the building and Starling listened to the van's engine start and drive away.

* * *

"Oh, man he's really out of it to just take my word for it like that..."

Starling went down the stairs to the lower ground level of the terraced warehouse.

The vat was empty. The next cell was vacant but for some shrivelled pot plants. The electrostatic equipment in the third cell was busted. In the fourth cell, there was a quiet whimpering in the back.

* * *

Without alternatives, Starling stepped into the cell, regarding the busted chair straps. "This looks familiar..." He looked over to the bundle huddled in the corner.

"Hey?" Starling prompted, "you're free. Congrats."  
The duck's breath hitched. "Say, you don't happen to know what she did to me by any chance?"  
Starling considered the familiar voice, "Quackerjack?"  
"Actually it's Jacob Quackers, but good guess. What-who are you?" He flinched, hugging his knees.  
"I'm Negaduck."  
"I-I don't feel so good. I think it was the blood transfusion."

Starling stared, his temper sky-rocketing.

* * *

**'She turned MY Fearsome Four into _vampires? That's her big super hero trick?!'_**

_'**Get a grip, Darkwing!** I'm trying to sleep.' _SplasherQuack's voice echoed into his head.

* * *

Starling frowned quietly. "So that's why she couldn't give it back. You'd already gotten it."  
Jacob stared up at him, "You're saying she didn't screen it?"  
"Yeah: Nope. Straight from his veins into your veins. Your own personal direct feed line."  
"I'm infected. I'm infected with something. I don't know what it is, _ugh."_ Jacob clenched his beak, bracing himself. "I need a doctor."

**"Heck."** Starling blanched. Getting a vampire doctor at this hour of the morning had to be like raising the dead. He wouldn't have even been awake himself except for that squid causing all the fishers to break out in mass hysteria out on the dock.

* * *

**'Any ideas, SplasherQuack?'**

_'I d...' _She struggled, _'Careaway, they're some kind of doctors doing some sort of thing. I c-some-th-ng. I dunno. Go see them.'_

* * *

"Then, let's get you to a doctor." Starling helped Jacob up onto his feet. "Stay with me, alright?"

They got up the stairs and out of the warehouse.


	2. In Progress

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**67**

**In Progress**

* * *

Negaduck pulled the motorcycle up to the curb of the Careaway clinic and Jacob followed him inside.

The receptionist wore a baby blue outfit and hairband over her brown hair. "Hello, do you have an appointment?"  
**"Do I look like a guy that makes appointments?"** Starling glared at the girl receptionist, **"He's been given unscreened blood. Get this guy a doctor and don't make me ask twice."  
**"It... I'll call the doctor in. He has to get in. Please take a seat."

* * *

Jacob sat down. Negaduck sat down opposite him.  
"You're so forceful, Negaduck," Jacob remarked, impressed, "How do you do that?"  
"Eh." Negaduck shrugged, "Picture the guy you think you wanna be and go for it." He looked down to the table.

Jacob paused, feeling the spasm again. "A-at least it doesn't seem to be getting any worse at the moment."  
Negaduck looked up at him, "What's the thing that's got you worried?"  
"Every so often my heart's... something's not working right."

* * *

"Jacob Quackers?"  
Jacob stood up and followed the dark furred doctor up the hall.  
"I'm Doctor Kitrine." He gestured Jacob into the consultancy room.

Jacob saw the chair with straps and immediately felt ill. "Look, I've just been in a set of restraints. Are they really necessary?" He asked tensely.

"I need to take a small blood sample, that's all."  
"I can sit quietly for that." Jacob responded.  
"Very well."

Kitrine took the blood sample and went to the other side of the room with it.

Jacob sighed and looked back to the desk in front of him. "How long will it take to process?"  
"I can tell you right now; you're definitely infected with vampirism."  
"I-I'm a vampire?"  
"You smell like a healthy duck. But your heart says different."  
Jacob shuddered. "My heart's supposed to do this?" Jacob put his hand to his chest, "But it 'hurts'!"  
Doctor Kitrine blinked, "Nobody's ever turned 'into' a living vampire before. Your best source of help is finding your sire." Kitrine answered, "He'll help you through the rest of your transformation process."  
"B-but I've never even met him!" Jacob frowned with fear. "Wh-what'll happen if I can't get his help?"  
Kitrine gazed at him. "You may die."

Jacob shuddered and hid his face in his hands.

Kitrine frowned, "I'm going to call in another doctor to help. Just give us a minute."

Jacob waited, a bundle of nerves.

* * *

The door opened. "Doctor Harron Bainsley." She introduced herself to Jacob, a blond woman in a dark blue blouse and skirt under her lab coat. Harron bent down to him, looking into his eyes. "You sneaky little devils. I know you're in there."

"I-is it possible I can get through this without my sire?" Jacob hesitated.  
"Let me have a proper look at what your vespers are doing before I answer that." She turned the lights down to a red light, "Aha, now I see them."

Harron put her hand against his chest, "When were you infected, Jacob?"  
"This morning."  
"I don't know what your sire was doing last night but your vespers are completely drained of energy. They couldn't fight off a cold. Fortunately instead of killing you, they've clustered in your heart and are feeding on kinetic scraps."  
"That's why I'm in pain?"

"I've never seen vespers act this benignly before." Harron put her hand on his shoulder. "I would still try to find your sire, but I wouldn't get too anxious. So long as you stay healthy and out of trouble, your condition should remain stable."

"Thank you, Doctor."

* * *

When Jacob stepped back into reception, he felt like he'd just had a war with life.

Negaduck took him back to his flat.

"Let me get you a coffee." Jacob insisted.  
"Sure." Negaduck shrugged. "Thanks."

* * *

Jacob unlocked the door and stepped in. His three cats immediately swarmed around his feet. Cream long hair tabby, white socks and grey short hair tabby.

"Nice place, very... pet friendly." Negaduck remarked.

"Oh, I missed you too, kids." Jacob cooed down at them. It was the usual litter of cat toys on the rug and he went to the kitchen.

Jacob fed the cats while waiting for the jug. All in all, the situation wasn't disastrous since he'd only been gone a little over a day. The dry food was low, the water bowl was low and the plastic wrapper on the bread empty on the floor. "Well, at least you didn't go hungry, Brain..." He threw the plastic in the bin and finished making the coffee.

* * *

Jacob came out to the lounge where Negaduck was looking at his family photos and handed Negaduck a cup.

Jacob sat down on his old lounge. "It was very nice of you to help me out today. Thank you so much."  
"You wouldn't think I'm being insincere, would you?" Negaduck asked.  
Jacob chuckled, "No."

Negaduck took a seat on the nearby armchair and drank his coffee. "So what was the verdict? Vampire or not?"  
Jacob lowered his gaze, "I'm stuck in a partial transformation. They say it's very rare." His cream long hair jumped up on his lap. "Hello, Mister Bananas."

Negaduck paused, "did he say the word _'revenant'_ at any time?"  
"No, I saw two doctors and nobody ever said that word." Jacob petted his cat. He sighed, looking up at Negaduck, "But they both said I need to find my sire. Do you have any idea who that guy is?"

**"Oh, there's a guy who ain't gonna be happy seein' you."** He clenched his beak, "The minute he knows you're in the picture, he's gonna be fixing to take you clear out of it. You being a newbee... you won't even stand a chance."

Jacob frowned, "H-he's that terrible?"

**"Oh, yeah."** Negaduck eased, "Darkwing tortured a guy for nine hours straight. Fast on his feet, hits like a Mack truck and definitely a blood drinker. Doctor Bellum has the marks on her neck to prove it. He's made her his own personal playmate. And she did all that to you without batting an eyelid. That just gives you a hint on the level the guy works on."

Jacob shuddered and petted Bananas.

"Just saying." Negaduck shrugged, "You want to go find him, you want to go armed with more than a cutesy cat for company."  
"Well, thank you for warning me." Jacob frowned, "Why, I might've walked straight into that otherwise."  
Negaduck put his mug on the coffee table. "Don't mention it." He stood up, "I'll let you get a break. Thanks for the coffee." He stepped to the door and turned. "Is Andrew Quackers your dad?"  
"Yes?"  
"I worked with him once, a long while back. Nice guy..." Negaduck said in a sad tone, "We made a great team; back in the day." He left the flat.

* * *

"Super hero." Jacob snorted, feeling miserable, "how could I be so gullible?" He looked over as his grey tabby came and jumped up onto the armrest to nuzzle his beak. "Oh, Brain." Jacob patted him with his right hand, awkwardly shifting his coffee mug to his left. "Now I'm stuck somewhere between vampire and duck and a monster like that is turning people into playmates."

His black fur and white socked cat stopped and meowed at him from the kitchen door.

_'Oi! I want a hug too!'  
_"Well, come on, then, Paddy," Jacob laughed.  
Paddy jumped up to sit down beside Jacob on the chair and Jacob petted him.

"Oh, you guys, you always make me feel so much better."


	3. Insane

_A/n: _

_1\. Interesting ideas, May. I love the haunted house idea. So far this series is rather devoid of ducklings. I'll have a good long think over fitting this one in._

_2\. I'm definitely doing a reform type of story here and Bushroot's definitely on the next page. I've given a couple lines hinting Negaduck's current plan and that's possibly the flash-point on your idea. It's almost like you subconsciously want him to fail or something. (How could you, May? Lol.) Also, Rose is Gosalyn's second daughter, so that's a 'how hard and with what hammer can adult Honker flatten Negaduck' story. Bit of a sidetrack._

_3\. I've got a TMNT story where one of the cubs doesn't speak English because of all the trauma going on. _

_4\. While I admit to losing more that one thought to that fatherless black hole in Della's parenting plot, there has never been any mystery or concern raised by the triplets themselves (that I [not a conspiracy theorist], have noted). If he shows up, (because Della's back) they'd put on their shiniest defensive-est armour that they've been building their whole lives to fight against him. 'Hello, Gary Goldsworth, long time no see. Here are your sons, __Venom, __Suspicion and __Apathy__. Oh, my favourite flowers! You remembered.'_

_A/n:_

_Thanks for the wonderful ideas, everyone! I'm a very slow writer and there's not a chance that I can start a second new story just at the present, so it's a job of 'what can I incorporate' into the running plot. _

_A/n:_

_Happy Birthday, Beth!_

_I've already established a lot of my head cannon on Drake and Elmo's childhood friendship in a story called 'Let's Get Dangerous'. Due to some minor alterations from that universe to this, Drake keeps his father and Elmo doesn't go..._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**68**

**Insane**

* * *

Elmo pulled himself away from his restraints with a surge of energy. He was able to walk straight through the force-field that was once blocking his path.

The handle on the exit door disintegrated to his touch. Elmo looked at his hands. He was sparking with electricity. He stepped outside, finding himself halfway down a hill in morning light. Panel beaters, sewing machines, coffee machines, pasta machines. Repair shops surrounded him.

Almost like 'he'd' been repaired.

Elmo considered calling his mother. He reached for his phone in his back pocket, but still giving off a massive electrical field, the thing disintegrated in his hand. There was no point even trying for his wallet and travel card.

* * *

After trudging up the road for what seemed an incalculable amount of time, Elmo gave up. "My life is over." He sat down on the curb outside the petrol station, watching the cars zooming by. Getting busier, on their way home. Or school. Or something. He'd been stuck in that cell for days, so he could only guess it was a weekday. He looked up towards the sun. "That's definitely on it's way out."

"Super hero?" He grumbled feeling depressed. "More like super zero."

* * *

It was dark when a purple coloured motorcycle jumped the curb and parked beside him on the grass.

"Well, that didn't take too much fuel."  
Elmo looked up wide eyed as the menacing looking duck in yellow with a red hat and black cape directed his words to him. "These are not the droids you're looking for."  
"Eh?"  
"I said: '_please don't hit me_'."

"Then don't gimme a reason to and we'll get along great." From the storage box at the back of his bike, the yellow costumed duck tossed him down a bundle of rubbery clothes. "Think I got your size."

"Erm, thanks...!" Elmo put the gloves on and went into the bathroom of the gas station _'without'_ frying the handle. He put the rubber outfit on.  
Elmo stepped out, feeling much better with the world. He came back to the duck. "Thanks, so what's your name?"  
"Negaduck." He answered, "Followed Doctor Bellum to her hideout, Sorry I missed you. And you're Joe Montina's kid, right?"

Elmo frowned, his insides feeling like liquid fire. "No."  
Negaduck paused, "You're the spitting image of him."  
Elmo felt his temper flaring. "And you're the spitting image of Darkwing Duck! You want to think about that before I turn you into fried duck?" He sparked electricity in his hand menacingly.

Negaduck paused and laughed, "Sure thing, Sparky."  
Elmo sighed. "It's Sputterspark."  
"So Sparky really is your nickname! That's hilarious!" Negaduck started laughed, "Ah come on, where do you live? I'll give you a lift." He jumped onto his motorcycle.

Elmo stared at the motorcycle. Otherwise he was going to keep walking forever. "17 Knights Way, Mireham. Thanks."  
Gimme a break." Negaduck complained, "North, south, west...?"  
"North." Elmo answered. "Pity you don't have a side car."  
"Eh. Wind drag."

"You have any extra insulation?"  
"You mean like a rubber cape? Obviously. Do you want a lift or don't you?"

Elmo put the helmet on and sat down behind Negaduck.

* * *

After a very awkward journey, Elmo stepped onto the soil of the old farm. He invited Negaduck in and introduced him to his mother.

"Sylvia Sputterspark." Negaduck repeated at the kitchen table. "Big old farmhouse you got here."  
"It was my part of the inheritance."  
"Love the car. XB V8 Falcon. A real tank."  
"Old XB? Had that since before Elmo was born."

She turned to Elmo, "Are you feeling better with the coffee, Sweetie?"  
"I..." Elmo frowned staring down into the cup. "I'm trying to think back to everything that was happening." He looked down at his arm.  
"You remember anything that quack was saying to you?" Negaduck asked.  
"You mean anything that actually made any logical sense?"

"Do you have any idea, Negaduck?" Sylvia asked.  
"Gets me, but she's obsessed with a TV show from when she was a kid. Darkwing Duck. She was trying to remake it in her own way."  
"Reiteration creates new bugs." She bill-boarded.  
"You remember the show, Sylvia?"  
"Darkwing Duck?" She considered back for a long moment. "... wait a second."  
"I didn't think it was that hard a question." Negaduck grumbled, "Either you remember something or you don't."  
"Oh," Elmo explained, "Mum keeps her memories in shoe-boxes."

"Uh-oh." Negaduck muttered. "I can't really spend a lot of time here..."

* * *

Sylvia came back and started rifling through the box.

"Oh, little you." She said, holding up a photo of a stage line up of children. "That was the first school play you were in. Doctor Watson. You remember?"  
Elmo thought back, "Wow, that was a long time ago." He considered, "I remember the Lestrade kid forgot his lines." He rubbed his face, "and D got detention again."

"I'd love to say and chat about your old school friends, but I really gotta go," Negaduck paused, "So I was doing some research into what Doctor Bellum was doing with Quackerjack. Apparently she had help from a particularly insane vampire that likes to go under the name of Darkwing Duck."

Elmo flinched. "An insane vampire."

"Completely round the twist." Negaduck answered. "He actually thinks he 'is' that TV show character. Meanwhile he has a blood habit and is leaving a trail of destruction behind him. You should've seen that place after he was done."

Elmo gulped. "I was a bit preoccupied and too stressed about that place to look around."

"It gets worse because the key to you recovering is between both Darkwing and Bellum... they're a real mean team." He sighed, "Somehow we gotta get a monster like that to cooperate... the first step is teaming up; that guy finds any of us out on our own and we're snack food." He stood up, "I need to go rescue the other two from wherever they've ended up."

"Sure." Elmo answered, "Thanks again for the lift."

Negaduck left.

* * *

Elmo stared after him.  
"He was very nice for dropping you off..." His mother stated. " He reminds me of Drakey."  
"No, ma." Elmo frowned, "Drakey reminds you of him."  
"In what way?"  
"Because that was the original Darkwing Duck."  
"So the original Darkwing is chasing down... mmm. I see."

Elmo rubbed his arm. "He called the other guy Quackerjack and he knows my father's name." He clenched his teeth, "I don't trust this guy."


	4. Unfriendly

**Mind Warp**

**69**

* * *

**Unfriendly**

* * *

Strung out from worry about the upcoming conversation, Doctor Reginald Bushroot knocked on the door and waited with baited breath.

"Come in."

Reginald took a breath and opened the door. "P-please don't fire me, Dean Hardgrove. I have a very good explanation."

The dean stared wide-eyed up at him. Reginald felt at once very self conscious.

Hardgrove moved himself to talk. "By god. Years of playing with plants, Reginald, and you finally tripped the line right into the chemistry set."  
"I was kidnapped by a mad scientist."  
"No kidding. And they were a plant scientist too?"  
Reginald shook his head, "Oh she was trying to make 'superheroes'. She did a lot worse to the poor guy in the next cell."

Hardgrove rubbed his head then grabbed the phone, "Well, at least you're alive and breathing. I'll let the police know to stop looking and you better check in to the microbiology department. Doctor Forster has been worried. Not just about herself either; for a change."  
"Th-thank you, sir." Reginald turned to leave the room.

"Doctor Bushroot..."

Reginald turned back.

"Having only two professors in the department puts a lot of strain on the teaching side of the equation." Hardgrove frowned. "So I only wish I _'could'_ give you a holiday. But right now we really need you to get back on top of your classes."  
Reginald nodded, "Yes sir."

* * *

It was well into peaceful night when there was the sound of a motorcycle somewhere outside. It reminded Reginald there was an existence outside his emails and he looked down at the clock at the bottom of his screen. It was after eight.

Reginald shut down his computer, shrugged on his coat and headed outside.

* * *

The motorcycle he'd heard earlier was in the teachers' car park. A medium sized duck in an oversized hat was studying his car under the lamp light.

"Um, hi, can I help you?" Reginald asked.  
"Nice collection of grass spiders. So you still have your job, huh?"  
"Y-yeah, I was only gone for a couple weeks, though you'd think it was a lot longer."

"Do you work with a Doctor Dendron?"  
"No."  
"Ah, well, win some, lose some."  
"Look, uh, who are you?" Reginald frowned.  
"Negaduck. I'm investigating the Doctor Bellum situation."

Reginald shuddered. "I wanted to get away from that." He sighed.  
"There are three other guys in your situation. We need to pool our resources and help each other."  
"The guy beside me got liquefied. He needs a lot more help than I do."

Negaduck frowned, "Any idea how hard it is checking everywhere for moving puddles? I don't know where he hangs his hat, yet. Unlike you." He pointed, "Doctor Reginald Bushroot. Research scientist at SCU."  
"He said his name was Bud Flood." Reginald answered and opened his car door.  
_"Wait, wait!"_ The duck held up his hands, "Don't you reckon you need help too?"  
Reginald sighed, looking at the lit contents of his old car. "I'm a plant..." He rubbed his head, "I just need water, and a garden bed right now."  
"But you're a scientist, right? How about telling me what was going on back at that place?"  
"She put him in that vat, I can't be sure the chemicals she-."

"Not him, _flower-brain_, you!"  
Reginald straightened. "There's no need to get all _nancy-pants_ with me."

**"Nngh!"** The duck's eyes narrowed as he clenched his beak, **"Can't even..."** He gritted under his breath, "**English**... **right..."** He was struggling not to reply to that.

"Look," Negaduck gritted, "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot here."  
Reginald flinched. "Roots."  
"I meant 'so to speak'." This guy was insulting even when he was trying not to be.  
"I'm as adult as the next college professor so why don't you just have a go at telling me the whole story, that way I can answer the whole question instead of in bits?"

Negaduck glared and straightened. "I've been investigating what happened to you. You weren't just getting a chlorophyll transfusion in there."  
"No, I was also subjected to an electro-shock treatment to make sure my body didn't reject it."

"You remember something else happening, near the end?"  
Reginald stared at him, thinking. "Yes, a blood transfusion..." Reginald's breath hitched, "That wasn't necessary for the process, I was near the end of the treatment, I got the transfusion then I got the last electroshock. Minutes after that the UV light turned on. It was so much noise around me... I guess you don't want to hear about that. Elmo walked off in a daze. Jacob looked fine, he just looked shaken. Bud, though..." Negaduck already said he didn't want to hear about Bud. "You know something about the transfusion?"

"That 'last ingredient' was vampire blood."

Reginald closed his car, "So-so it's not enough making me a plant, now I'm a vampire plant!"  
"You feel any different? Uh, stupid question, I meant from how you think a plant duck should feel?"  
Reginald considered, "There's certainly been something nagging me all afternoon, like I forgot something. This would qualify for sure."  
"Okay, so that's progress." Negaduck folded his arms.

Reginald glared at Negaduck. _What a patronizing jerk!_

"So when I was with Quackerjack, we went to the doctor about it. Apparently figuring out what's going on with you guys is tied up with tracking down that vampire that gave you the transfusion."  
_Who? Jack, as in Jacob?_ Reginald frowned, "Which doctor was this?"  
"He saw a couple doctors at the Careaway Clinic."  
"Then I'll make sure to go visit there tomorrow. I'll get more sense out of them..." Reginald stopped, this guy was getting under his leaves. "No offence to Jacob."  
"Okay, but you'd also get a lot more out of the vampire whose blood you've got mixed up in your chlorophyll. You know, before you get your teeth in?"

Reginald reactively put his hand to his beak, pressing his tongue against his regular teeth. There was strange irregularities in the roof of his mouth. Sheaths? His breathing hitched. All at once, his brain had dissected Negaduck into a compilation of chemicals and minerals. He quickly opened his car, got in, and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Negaduck tapped on the window.

Reginald took a steadying breath and turned on the accessories, rolled down the window.

"So you already got them in." Negaduck shrugged, "That just makes it more urgent you hearing me out."  
Reginald breathed. "It's apparent I have some issues to work out; I'm forced to admit you were right."

**"Finally." **Negaduck rolled his eyes.  
Reginald clenched his beak, "So, what do you suggest, or were you just after the smug satisfaction of proving yourself right?"  
_"Yeesh..._ Look, we gotta track down this vampire somehow. Make him talk. The problem with that is he's working with Doctor Bellum, so you know he's not such a nice guy."  
"I can't imagine where you get that idea from..." Reginald swallowed. "I-I've got to go home."  
"If we work as a team we can catch him. He's not going to help you willingly."

Reginald started the engine, "I believe you, Negaduck." He changed the radio station, "But right now, I've got to stop thinking about it."  
_  
__"That's where it is, uh-huh-."  
__"I'm walking on-."  
__"Like a room without a-."  
"You're on the air with-."  
__"Nah-ah, nah why don't you get a-."  
__"Bee-bop-a-."  
__"Yo other brothers can-."  
__"...East St Canard Chamber Ensemble." _

Reginald sighed in relief at the soothing tone of the radio host's voice.

_"This next orchestral piece is called, '_Wind in the Willows_'. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do."_

Negaduck stepped back from the car and Reginald drove home.


	5. The Liquinator

**Mind Warp**

**70**

**The Liquinator**

* * *

Water, water, everywhere. He'd come to the right place.

Starling knocked on the apartment door.

"Bud Flood?" He looked through the mail slip, "The name's Negaduck. I'm here about what happened with Doctor Bellum."

* * *

With a quick opening and shutting of the door, Starling was swept halfway across the room and into a bath tub.

"Yes, and what might I ask is your role in all of this? Hmm?" The living statue of water towered over him, deformed, reformed again.  
"I followed her in there this afternoon; she'd snagged herself the vampire she'd been trying to nab."  
"Oh, yes." Bud replied, "He certainly screamed, perhaps as much as the rest of us did shortly thereafter."  
"Uh, you heard that, huh?" Starling tried to sit up but Bud moved closer.  
"I also 'hear'..." Bud flowed menacingly closer to him, "the metric quantity of blood your heart is pumping through your body."

Starling tried again. "We should team up to find the vampire that did this to you. The other victim's doctors said if we could catch him, we could get information out of him that could help you. It'll be tough though, I mean, look at what he's done to you and that's just without him even trying."

* * *

"How about we do a little experiment?" The bath filled with water.  
"Ex-exp-." Starling felt his heart clench.  
"...And breathe. Nice calm breathes are important for smooth operations of the system. The heart is a miraculous piece of hydraulic engineering. But I never knew I would ever get the chance to see and feel from inside of it..."

"Do you... mind? _That's private property!_" Starling pushed his leg through the water and struggled up out if the bath. "I am _t-ry-ing_ to _help_ you."  
"Help me?" Bud replied. "What help do you think I need?"

"Remember the vampire who infected you? Don't you want to ask 'him' a few choice questions, do some experiments on _'him'?"_  
"That sounds delightful." Bud answered, "Consult an expert. An age old remedy to ignorance: memes."  
"Exactly... I think." Starling straightened, sopping wet. "And what about team based education? Sound like fun too, yeah?"

"What a splendid idea! Why lie in wait in a puddle for room service when you can experience the thrill of catching your prey yourself!"

Starling stepped back to the door. "Great, see you tomorrow... Liquidator."

* * *

Starling got free of the apartment and got onto the Ratcatcher. He drove back to the old fishery warehouse by the docks and went up the stairs into the abandoned office space.

SplasherQuack was sitting behind the desk, booted legs up on the table, examining her sharp fingers. "Was all that worth it?"

He dropped down on the pile of old blankets at the side of the room, "You kidding me? I caught 'em all before he did. I've managed to get them all coming after him. All I gotta do is keep working the angle and he'll be in for one heck of a nasty surprise. Plus none of them hate me, that's a twist on the old show."

"You really need to let that go."  
"Yeah? Like your humanity?" Starling scoffed, "Gimme a break, this ain't rocket science. They got his blood so they got his strength. Four vamps against one; that's gotta be enough to get him a real bad headache."  
"Well congratulations... I so don't care." She stretched.

"So that's why we couldn't find those graves." Starling thought. "His whole family have been vampires the whole time. Why didn't 'you' tell me that?"

SplasherQuack shrugged, "Smells like a duck to me, just a bit... weird."

* * *

"I'm still damp." Starling grumbled, "He was like 'the Liquinator', not Liquidator."  
"Ech." SplasherQuack grumbled, "Serves you right, walking right into his lurking spot. Guys like that love just hanging out waiting for people to drop by, then they slime all over them and drink 'em down in private."

"Huh." Starling considered, "You reckon DM's like that?"  
"For what it's worth," SplasherQuack paused, "he snaked you real fast in that crypt."  
Starling laughed, "The look on both your faces was hilarious!"

SplasherQuack rolled her eyes, "Whatever. If it wasn't for me you'd still be out, looking over every puddle from here to the south side hydraulic power company."  
"Never said you weren't good for nothing now did I?" He chuckled, hanging up his wet clothes on the mound of box beside his bed. Starling pulled his blanket over himself with a yawn.

For a moment, SplasherQuack sat there thinking, "...Oi!" She tipped the boxes over onto him and stormed out of the room.  
Starling grinned, setting the boxes straight and rehanging his costume up. "Good night, SplasherQuack." He sang sweetly, then curled back up under the blanket.


	6. Day Ahead

_A/n: 'Something something WW2 something something' is officially locked into my head for future chapter 6._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**71**

**The Day Ahead**

* * *

_"I'm sorry, what, Ms Owlsen?"_

_Zan Owlson, acting CEO of Glomgold industries was a brown owl with black hair. She was wearing her usual grey shirt, jacket and skirt. __She sighed, looking back from the large french windows of Scrooge's dining room.  
"Look, we're both stuck with him, right? You, more than I am because I could just get another job."  
__"You could."  
__"But I was hired to do this job," She gritted determinedly, "And do what's best for the company, so long as I am employed there."_

_Scrooge looked at his tea. "Technically we're supposed to be rivals."_

_"Pfft." Zan folded her arms. "Would you rather a death threat recording tied to a shark tail tied to a balloon?"  
__Scrooge shrugged, "It would be nice for a little more peace. But why am I needing to go to this little meeting?"  
__"Because that's the only way I could convince him to. If I convince you that you have a problem-."  
__"Namely him."  
__"Then he'd come too."  
__"So he could try to off me."  
_

_Zan paused, "That's a... technical detail we still need to work on."  
__Scrooge chuckled.  
__"I'm serious, Mr McDuck." She clenched her fist.  
__"Aye, I believe you, lass. It's as good an idea as any."  
__"So, for civility's sake, what about hiring some plain clothes guards?"  
__"Do you think that would slip past Glomgold?"  
__She shrugged, "He's slipped things past you."_

_Scrooge frowned, "I don't lose sleep over Glomgold."  
__Zan sighed and sat back, folding her arms. "You know you're almost as bad as him, right?"  
__"I am...!" Scrooge glared at her for a moment, "I... see what you're doing there, lass."_

_"One day. For our mutual advantage."  
__"One day? He's got a year's worth of problems."  
__She pulled out green slips of paper, "The coupon is only for a day."  
_"Coupon?"_ Scrooge grabbed the copies and started looking at them. __He glanced at her slightly smug expression and stopped.  
__"I take it you're a little more interested now?"  
__"I don't know..." He backed up.  
__"I've already done the negotiation with the therapist. If we fill all ten places they're each 50% off, you get five, he gets five."_

_"Five places? That's two and a half the cost of one!" He objected.  
__"But a 75% discount off the cost of potentially solving your rivalry issue. Plus it's scaling. Everyone has issues they can air out. At that price, it's a bargain."  
__"Fair point..." Scrooge considered, "I could take my nephew."  
__"I would suggest a body guard." Zan added in extra. "This is Flintheart Glomgold we're dealing with."_

_Scrooge looked at the coupons again. At 75% off even just to tear a corner off the problem it was too much of a bargain to pass up. "Alright... against my better judgement..." he sighed, "You've got yourself a deal."_

_"Thank you." Zan smiled brightly, "I'm very hopeful this will pay off."_

* * *

Scrooge hesitated over his breakfast at the end of the long wooden table by the morning lit windows.

"Last second reservations, sir?" Mrs Beakley asked, serving his tea.  
"Ach, it's nothing really..." Scrooge shrugged, "Not like he's a cat among a lot o' pigeons."  
"Glomgold?"  
"D..." Scrooge stopped, "Launchpad's friend on his way to the meeting with us. Discovered last night that he's a vampire."

"Darkwing Duck?" Mrs Beakley considered.  
"Well, he's not doing that act today. He'll just be himself."  
"Then it's the perfect opportunity to learn more about him."  
"Aye, that's true."

"Grammy! Morning, Mr McDuck." Webby raced into the room, "Grammy, can I go out haunted house hoping with Lena and Violet today?"  
"Hmm..." Mrs Beakley considered, what's your itinerary?"  
"Uh, Violet's got the addresses." Webby pulled out her own notes, "Ghost paintings, evil plot, ghost party, cobwebs, a gramophone and candelabra that light themselves."

"Well, make sure you take extra precautions. Those old houses aren't always condemned before they start falling down. Oh, and do watch out for mould pockets."  
"Okay, thanks, Grammy."  
"And make sure your phone is fully charged."  
"Roger that!"

Scrooge smiled and looked back to Beakley, "Thank you for helping me field the Moonlander relations today, Mrs Beakley."

"Thank goodness we had a dragon on our side yesterday." She agreed.  
"Aye, more the fact of her being a vampire. Very much a force of her own" Scrooge frowned, "General Lunaris was quite reasonable to talk to without that nasty looking ship of his."

* * *

"No way." Della's voice rejected in a tease.  
"Oh, yes I did!" Louie's voice resounded.  
"Had to be a fluke." Della discounted.  
"It totally counted!" Louie defended.  
"Unreal." Della remarked.  
"Actually, 'microscopic', slight difference."  
"Huey!" Dewey and Louie complained.

Scrooge smiled at everyone coming into the dining room, "Good morning, what's everyone up to today?"  
"Oh," Dewey smiled, "We're going to see..."

"Teen Duck!" The four sang in chorus.  
Della eased herself into a chair, flicking her shoulder length blonde hair back behind her ear. She grabbed herself a croissant and a knife load of jam.  
"The lights! The music! Dewey headlined.  
"The action, the adventure!" Huey declared.  
"Teen Duck is the hippest musical rock group on the charts." Louie detailed.

"I though a trip to the big city would be great for a little change of pace." Della finished. "While you're busy with your..." She looked at Scrooge's woeful expression. "Oh, sorry. Did you want to come?"  
"No, no, it's fine." Scrooge tried, "It's for kids anyway..."  
"Maybe if you could sneak out early, we can wait for you."

"There's no 'sneaking out' for me on anything like this. Go on, with you." Scrooge smiled reassuringly, "Tell me all about it when you get back. Have a grand time."  
She smiled back at him.

"Now, where's Donald?" Scrooge considered his absence.  
"The last time I saw he was talking to Penumbra on his boat," Mrs Beakley reported.  
"I'm glad they're getting along." Della beamed. "They really are so much alike."

Scrooge stood up, "Well, I better collect him or we'll be late."  
"I'd better come with you." Mrs Beakley stated, "so you can officially pass the baton, so to speak."  
"They have to understand a prior engagement is a prior engagement." Scrooge frowned. "Frankly I'd much rather be spending a day with our new friends than..." Scrooge slumped in resignation. "Ugh. The sooner this day is over, the better." He grumbled.


	7. Unconventional

_A/n: _

_So the question I've been asked is: 'Why is the writer calling this a "crossover story series"? Darkwing Duck made a cameo appearance in _DuckTales 2017_.'_

_1\. I did (in fact) do the idiot check_

_At the time of commencing posting I did a brief check on the_ DuckTales_ forum. It was somewhere around a week after the episode _The Duck Knight Returns_ was out. That was plenty of time for someone to write a drabble and yet I couldn't find any Darkwing Duck entries. Funny, but it was almost like everyone else realised that people don't go to_ DuckTales_ looking to read about Darkwing Duck; so I decided not to be a muppet too._

_2\. Excessive Use of the _**Darkwing Duck 1991**_ Characters and Episode References Galore_

_I agree that Darkwing Duck 'as a person' is canon in the _DuckTales 2017_ series, but **Hooter, Honker, Morgana, Grizlykoff, Doctor Bellum, Steelbeak** and** Gosalyn** (at the moment of writing) are all __from _**Darkwing Duck 1991**_. Drake Mallard's backstory here draws from episodes: '_**Inherit the Wimp**_',_ **'Paraducks'**_ and '_**Clash Reunion**_'. The dark side of this Drake's personality verges on_ **'DarkWarrior Duck'.**_ If you haven't watched those episodes of _**Darkwing Duck 1991**_ it's all been r/whoosh to you._

_3\. Where the Target Audience Will Find It_

_This story starts with reestablishing **Hooter, ****Bellum, Tuskernini** and **Grizlykoff** (from the_ **Darkwing ****Duck ****1991**_ series) into this story universe. No recurring_ DuckTales_ characters appear until the very last page of chapter 1. Scrooge barely shows in chapter 2 and he barely shows in chapter 3. No person looking for an exclusive _DuckTales 2017_ story would still be reading at Chapter 5 unless their eyes were glazed over like this was some kind of train wreck and they just couldn't stop staring. _

_4\. Crossover vs Cameo_

_This is not a Darkwing Duck cameo inside a_ DuckTales_ story series; it is a cameo of _**_**_ inside __a _Darkwing Duck 1991 x DuckTales 2017_ story series. _

_You're welcome! :D_

_A/n:_

_Okay, sorry if anyone finds this a little bit of a sensitive issue. Drake is given like two extra seconds to think over what these people's problems might be from all the data he's picking up from them._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**72**

**Unconventional**

* * *

Drake Mallard in black leather riding jacket, white shirt, jeans and helmet was finding the drive to Duckburg with Trouble a very relaxing trip. The incredible feeling of being in the scenery, rather than looking out through the car windshield was refreshing. The knowledge of travelling on fuel economy was satisfying.

"So I really don't get this thing you're going to." Trouble's dark feminine voice piped into his helmet's earpiece.  
"It's..." Drake considered, "A bunch of ducks, sitting in a circle, talking out their biggest hangups... and those are like corrupt files in our operating systems. In group therapy, we help each other to try to clean them up. Hopefully help give each other a working or a work around solution."

"What corrupt files does the impeccable Drake Mallard have?"  
Drake paused, "Um... I didn't actually think that far."  
Trouble sniggered, "You're gonna have to throw them some kind of bone."

Drake thought for a long while as they travelled along the road.

* * *

"I have a hero complex." Drake finally reported.  
"You can't give them that." Trouble told him off, "They'll be junk yard dogs over your Darkwing Duck persona."  
"Yeah..." Drake frowned.

"How do ducks normally get corrupt files?"  
"Well, they could hatch that way, but mostly it's to do with traumatic experiences in their past."  
"Alright, so you just need to pick a really bad memory."  
Drake thought. "Yeah, school was the worst but how do I turn that into a workable hangup?"

"Sorry, brain-jack won't be installed till Tuesday." Trouble retorted.  
Drake snorted, "You're so funny, Trouble. Going back to my hero complex... Everybody says I have trust issues... Steelbeak even said it the other night."  
"But do you really?"  
"I suppose in a way I do. I do have a tendency to hold out the jury on people's innocence..."  
"But they totally deserve it, right?"  
"I've never been too far off the mark." Drake sighed, "I've got to admit I have a problem today... I guess it's just a case of; 'if in doubt: act'."  
"Act like a guy with trust issues?"  
"Exactly. It's just like being Darkwing Duck without the motivation to positive actio-_oh-my-god that's Negaduck_." Drake realised mid-sentence.

Trouble giggled. "Well, good luck with tha-at."

Drake glanced down at Trouble's dash. "Thanks."

* * *

Drake took a seat in the circle with the others. Scrooge McDuck in his usual red sat between a particularly drawn looking Fenton Crackshell in shirt and tie and Donald Duck in black. There were women and men of different backgrounds, and Flintheart Glomgold in his kilt and blue shirt sat opposite Scrooge.

On Drake's initial 'distrustful' consideration, the most dangerous pit bulls in the group were Donald and Glomgold himself.

In the business end of any argument, were Scrooge, a woman with long flowing brown hair and an exotic toucan beak, an overweight man with a puffin beak sitting opposite her, then a rugged very buff looking red-headed army veteran in a leather jacket and grey trousers. These then were the boxer heavies of the group.

Next level down was the chihuahuas of the group; Fenton, a bespectacled black haired string bean, and a small woman with dark tight coils of hair.

Who was here who didn't think they could get something personally useful out of the session? Drake frowned, looking back to Glomgold with scepticism; the answer was himself, Glomgold and McDuck. Drake looked back to Scrooge and caught his gaze. Scrooge's expression was one of concern, then he looked away from him.  
"Every little bit helps." Scrooge commented on the affair to no one in particular.

Drake settled back in his chair.

* * *

A well endowed woman with black hair and dressed in a purple blouse and skirt came into the room and sat down, very business like.

Drake stared at her. '_She isn't..._ Drake rubbed his head in confusion. '_But of course she is, of course...'_

"Okay, everyone. Let's start by introducing ourselves. I'm Drakona Fell, alternative behavioural therapist. I have perfectionist issues."  
"I'm Flintheart Glomgold! And I'm the richest duck in the world!" He started laughing maniacally.  
"I see." The therapist marked in her notes. "And what do you think your problem is?"  
Glomgold sat back down and sighed. "My unhealthy obsession to beat Scrooge McDuck. And smother him into the ground!" He laughed.

"And what about you?" Drakona addressed the overly buff duck with short orange hair sitting beside Glomgold.  
"Gary Goldsworth. I have a dog training channel."  
"And your problem?"  
Gary was tense. "I have anxiety issues."  
_'Read: short on finance_', Drake considered quickly, '_army veteran, probably post traumatic stress disorder_'.

"Okay. And you?"  
The skinny duck with black hair and glasses answered, "Jon Quackbeak. I'm a writer-artist and I have depression. And anxiety."  
Drake considered him in brief totality, '_short on finance, low self esteem, closet perfectionist_'.

"Peru Gondomure." The long haired toucan introduced herself, "I am mother of two. I have separation anxiety."  
Drake considered her, '_you're doing really well being here and barely ruffled_'.

"Donald Duck. I'm an uncle for three boys. I have anger management issues."  
Drake considered, '_victim complex_'.

"Scrooge McDuck of McDuck Enterprises. I have an obsession with gold."  
Drake considered, '_success addict_'.

"Fenton Crackshell. I'm a scientist and I have social anxiety. So this is really awkward for me."  
Drake smiled at him, '_you're a trouper_'.

"Drake Mallard. I'm a private tutor. I have trust issues."

"Julia Beakster. I'm a musician. I suffer performance anxiety."  
Drake considered, '_you're a trouper too_'.

"Dan Andrews." The puffin stated, "I have a social commentary channel and I stress eat."  
Drake considered him in totality, '_victim complex_'.

* * *

"Excellent everyone." Drakona finished her notes. "Now we've all been introduced, we can start. I want you all to close your eyes and think of someone close to you. Someone you're like birds of a feather with."

Drake immediately thought of his student Gosalyn.

There was a sudden vanishing of light. Drake jumped off his chair, but there was the decided absence of anything around the group.

"We've taken a trip through the minds eye into the realm of thought." Drakona reported.  
Drake frowned, "Your alternative therapy?"  
"This will allow us to step outside our problems, look at ourselves from a third person perspective."

"There had to be a reason this was so cheap!" Scrooge grumbled in distaste.  
_"If I wanted to look at myself I'd have checked in the bathroom mirror!"_ Donald said darkly, glaring at the therapist. _"How do we get out of here?"  
_"By letting everyone get a turn."  
Drake flinched, "I did not sign up for this!"  
_"Me neither!"_ Donald folded his arms fiercely. _"I don't want a turn."_

"Uh, Ms Fell," Scrooge slighted with polite apology, "could we not do something a little less confronting, like ink blots or..." Scrooge struggled, "dolls or some such?"

"I get it." Fenton interjected, "this is about looking constructively at our issues."  
Drake frowned, glancing between Glomgold and Julia, "somehow I don't think this case is to scale, somehow."  
"Nonsense. Let's start with you, Julia. Performance anxiety, wasn't it?"

* * *

The blank space around them brightened into a classroom. Drake didn't remember his classes ever being this full of students. The support group were standing up behind the back row and to the sides of the class.

A small girl with dark curly hair stood in front of the white board with speech cards. The row of kids up the back were pointedly acting up.

"So this is why you home school the little ones?" Scrooge queried.  
"Uh-huh." Donald answered with a frown.

Drake blinked at the green parrot and the red rooster standing beside Donald. "Uh, they don't seem part of the scene." He asked. "Are those your spirit guides, Donald?"

"Aiyee! We are the best spirits in the world." The green parrot in a yellow suit and sporting an umbrella proclaimed.  
"No, no, Jose, 'In forever'." The rooster with the sombrero and phones in his gun holsters returned.  
"So it is so, my friend! I am Jose." The parrot introduced himself in an eternally friendly tone.  
"And I am Panchito."  
Drake couldn't help but smile.

Glomgold stepped over, "Ah, how come you got two?!" He glared at Donald, dragging along Zan Owlsen.  
Because we, my friend, are the three caballeros."  
"Si, you cannot have one without the other."

Glomgold growled. "I'll be watching you." He pointed at Donald.  
"Please do."  
"We could do with some applause."  
"But that is okay if we don't."  
"It is a matter of personal preference."  
"Si, to each his own."

Glomgold stomped away.  
Scrooge chuckled, "I just got me money's wor-."

Glomgold tripped over a desk chair and disrupted the class.

Kids turned and started laughing and jeering at him.

Drake stared as Glomgold told the children off, making a frightening spectacle of himself. Finished, he then tripped over another chair.

"This is bad." Drake commented.  
Donald gulped._ "Very bad."_  
"It's fully interactive." Drake detailed.  
_"That means people can get hurt."_ Donald translated.

"But we have only to deal with a little problem, then we are free, no?" Jose asked.  
"Oh, bummer." Gosalyn said, appearing from behind Drake, "Are we gonna be spending half the day in a classroom?"

"Probably." Scrooge answered. "And you would be?"  
"Oh, this is Gosalyn, my student."  
"Alright, let's make this quick," Gosalyn shot up the front of the class where most of the group were, "Try this." She turned to the classroom,

"I am Julia Beakster! This is _'my'_ class now! And if you don't like it, you can go to the principal's office!"  
Julia laughed. "You're right!"

The room dissolved.


	8. The Mind's Eye

_A/n:_

_Thank you, Sam, for sharing your lovely story ideas! _

The Mark of Zorro _and _The Mask of Zorro_ (one was black and white and the other had Antonio Banderas in it) were actually movies I saw and enjoyed as an older kid. (Except for that one 'oh-so-wrong' scene.) I quite liked the swordplay and the whole liberating of the repressed populace from tyranny stuff and of course I was a total fan of the secret identity stuff. _

_I vaguely remember my dad showing us that old black and white and me saying things like 'He jumped over that wall to disappear! That's Darkwing Duck, but they made this before _Darkwing Duck_! Why are there so many rose bushes?' _

_Back in those days, there were only two episodes of_ DuckTales_ in existence because that's what our VHS collection said and _Darkwing Duck_ was older than _Count Duckula_ because that's what the TV said. Zorro was the_ new_ Darkwing Duck. _

_Quick, everyone; to freedom!_

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**73**

**The Mind's Eye**

* * *

The classroom dissolved into a basic living room. There was a blue bean bag and a couch with a pretty floral patchwork quilt draped over it. A small TV. A woman, looking like Peru but with her brown hair done up in a high pony tail, headed towards the door with her string bag. 'Hungry Hippo' was embroidered on her light blue polo-shirt.

The little girl, with straight brown hair in a bob and wearing a faded floral dress, raced up to her and gave her a desperate hug. "Mama, please don't leave me!"  
"Oh, I have to work, my liebling. You have the TV and the play-station. Why not play Spiderduck? Don't forget _The New Adventures of Superpig_ is on later."

Jon and Julia started discussing the unrealistic cost of childcare versus earnings. Scrooge was asking what had happened to the other adults in Peru's childhood.

Drake felt irked by the needling and went to save Peru. "Peru, you said you have two children, right?"  
"Yes." Peru smiled brightly at him, "They are the loves of my life."

The room dissolved.

* * *

The new scene was a crowded dining room. Drake watched the family at the table, laughing and enjoying their food and time together in a way that made him feel completely alienated.

"Well, I don't see the trouble with this..." Scrooge scratched his head.

The therapist wasn't a lot of help, standing idly by while the rest of the group tried to understand why a family dinner where everyone was getting along could be bad. Drakona Fell had theoretically studied psychology at university. She should know the answer better than the whole group put together.

Ten years ago, Drake hadn't even thought about stress eating being a thing; some people just really loved their snack food, and that some people wasn't his parents who had taught Drake to value his beans and carrots.

Was Drake seriously going to be the 'know-it-all' of the group today? He looked around at all the puzzling faces. "Stress eating is a learned associative behaviour." Drake sighed, "in your case, Dan, you're unconsciously trying to recreate that 'happy family time' feeling." He gestured to the table, "when you're happy, you cope better."

"Food is only one of the comfort factors in your life, Dan."  
"Yes, there is also pillows,"  
"Good company,"  
"Gracious Amor."

Still feeling isolated, Drake withdrew from the clamouring of suggestions from Donald's spirit guides. The newly expanded Mallard household were as reserved over meal time as they were during sword practice. Catlyn didn't seem to mind the 'peace and quiet' of the manor. Drake wondered how noisy meal times at Gosalyn's house were compared to Dan's house. Herbert wasn't a chatterbox but he certainly had no problems being married to one. Drake made a note to invite them all over in the near future.

"Board games or a deck of cards."  
"Start making some new comfort memories."

"That's true."

* * *

The room dissolved into a dog training ranch.

"This is quite the dance." Scrooge commented as an un-evolved dog passed his leg.

"Dogs are Gary's self help for his anxiety issues." Drake shrugged.

The room dissolved to a school gym where a science day contest was being held.

Drake blinked, that one resolved way too fast. Even in a daydream, Gary had managed to stay an enigma.

* * *

"I've got this!" Dewey stepped out from behind Scrooge and approached Fenton, "Your inventions are great; you know what the real problem here is, Fenton? Them! You've got to just keep putting yourself out there. Eventually you'll meet people who respect you for the truly awesome talent you are!"

The room changed to a studio apartment.

"Yeah?" Dewey exclaimed at the email, "I take your 'not to word length' and raise you a private ebook listing! Howzat!"

* * *

The floor suddenly tipped and rocked. There was the sound of water slapping as the paddle wheel turned at the stern and the sound of steam issuing up from the boiler in the middle of the boat.

"Oi, where did that fork come from?" The younger Scrooge grabbed the wheel, "Dewey, hurry; what does the map say; left or right?"  
"Um, right?"  
Scrooge spun the wheel.  
"The boiler's leaking!"  
"Well, use chewing gum, Huey!"

The ship swerved to the right of the oncoming overgrown embankment.  
"Phew." Scrooge uttered. "That could've been a disaster."

Moment later there was a great eternally long shudder of the boat, a terrible, wrenching ripping sound from the underside of the hull. Everyone tumbled to the deck at the point the steamer pitched to a stop.  
Scrooge looked at the shallow rocks wedging the boat tight. "Not again, Dewey!"  
"I'm not the map reader, Huey is!"  
"A little busy keeping the boiler from exploding!" Huey objected.  
Dewey handed the map back, "plus whatever you paid for that thing was way too much."  
Younger Scrooge looked at the map. "Aye, you're right. How're we gonna beat Horseshoes Hogg now?" He considered. "Ah, I know," He turned, "We-."  
"We could just give up." Louie suggested, leaving Huey's side to join them.  
"I didn't make me money giving up the moment the plan sprang a leak!" Scrooge grabbed a lifesaver ring, "never call it over till it's over."  
"But it's not money, Uncle Scrooge," Louie folded his arms. "It's just a run down old mansion. It'd cost more to fix and we already spent a load dredging this old barnacle up."  
"It doesn't matter what it is, lads." Younger Scrooge insisted, piling more lifesaver rings into their arms, "The biggest point of living is not to give up. Whatever you're going for, you gotta keep battling forward."

The boat dissolved.

* * *

They were in a grassy courtyard with a fountain.

"Well, that wasn't as painful as I thought it'd be," Scrooge commented.  
Donald barrelled them to the ground as a bright purple streak of light hit the ground where they were standing. "Look out!" Donald exclaimed.

"Is this a personification of your temper, Donald?" Fenton asked.  
"No, it is not that." Jose stated, jumping to Donald's side.  
"It's Felldrake." Panchito jumped to his other side and pointed.  
In place of Drakona stood a male version of her cackling madly away. He paused, "Yes, you thought you'd seen the last of me?"

The world suddenly changed to a jail.

Felldrake continued laughing "I've waited ten years to finally get even with you, Donald Duck! And with your life force now in my power-."

"Blah blah _blah."_ Panchito mocked, making quacking motion with his hand.  
"We still will defeat you, no matter what you say!" Jose stated.  
"Maybe the three _'real'_ Caballeros can." Felldrake laughed, "But one caballero and two day dreams? Heh, not on your life, and it quite literally is!" He laughed, "Oh, it feels good to be back to normal."

"That daydream chair hit Glomgold pretty hard." Drake argued back.  
"Ach, you noticed?" Glomgold said in an appreciative tone.

"So, why were you hiding as a girl, anyway?" Panchito asked.  
"I wasn't hiding! It was that incompetent...!" Felldrake complained, "If only it was 2020. Then I could give that snappy reply that goes: '_that was so-oo last decade_'."  
"But it's not." Panchito corrected.  
"Fine." Felldrake started in a rush, "That's-why-it-took-me-a-decade-to-get-back-to-you. I-needed-to-find-the-Mind's-Eye-and-then-engineer-a-way-to-trick-you-into-helping-me-get-back-to-the-way-I-think-I-am; not-the-way-that-fool-wizard-brought-me-back-as." Felldrake grumbled, "Moving on!"

Drake frowned. So, Felldrake technically had gotten what _'he'_ wanted out of the group therapy. At least Drake could read him properly now, and this guy was definitely a perfectionist. Felldrake was so happy with his plan succeeding, in fact, that hadn't quite realised he was stuck inside this daydream with the rest of them.

It wasn't going to take him that long, though, Drake decided as he looked around him at his many cellmates. "Donald, you said you have anger management issues?"  
_"Because nobody understands me when I'm talking."_ Donald explained, _"But that's just a part of life and everyone has their own kind of trouble."_ He shrugged. _"It's easy to know who cares about me, because they're the ones who actually try to understand."_

* * *

"We're still in the cell." Scrooge noted.

Donald folded his arms, _"Oh, no. That guy's for real. Sorry everybody."  
_"If what you're saying is true, then it isn't your fault, Donald." Fenton offered.  
_"Wait a minute,"_ Donald blinked, _"I didn't say it was 'my fault', I was just saying sorry that you were stuck in this mess with me. It's called 'sympathy'?"_

Drake sighed and looked away.

Glomgold went to the bars and shook his fist, "Oi, Felldrake, you're breaking contract!"  
"Oh for the love of-." Scrooge winced. "Glomgold, you idiot, don't help him."  
"You've got to be joking me, McDuck." Glomgold retorted, "Are we all just gonna be sitting around, stuck in this daydream for the rest of eternity?"  
"Oo, we could sing!" Panchito offered in excitement.

"_No!_" Felldrake responded vehemently. "Oh, fine. _Spoilsports._ Here!"

The scene shifted to outside.

* * *

It was an oil rig. Glomgold was so busy with Scrooge, he didn't notice as Goldie O'Gilt set up the pump and sucked out the molten gold into her own ship rig.

Scrooge folded his arms, "I think this one may be a bit too subtle, Felldrake."

"Aye, I don't see the point 'o this-." Glomgold suddenly tried to push Scrooge over the side, "Ah-ha, take that!" Scrooge moved faster and Glomgold ended up on the wrong side of the rail.  
"Are ye' having fun yet?" Scrooge mocked.  
"Yes, actually," Glomgold flipped back over the bars and landed ungracefully on the platform, "Knowing that you _'can'_ be beaten." He pointed to Goldie's ship with a wide smile. Then he turned to Felldrake. "I'm ready to go home now, Mr Wizard man."

"Oh, no." Felldrake laughed, "The party's just getting started. Let's move on..." He looked at Drake with a glimmer in his eyes, "to Mr _Trust Issues_." He laughed maniacally and raised the glowing purple amulet.


	9. I am not Darkwing Duck

_a/n: ...It's __ dead, Jim._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**74**

**I Am Not Darkwing Duck**

* * *

It was a classroom at Drake's middle school.

"Ah, come on, what is this?" Felldrake in his purple cloak complained, looking at the amulet in his hand. "I thought this one was going to be interesting."  
"Ach." Scrooge in his red outfit winced, "blurry."

Drake flinched as the brown haired boy in the back row spat a paper pellet at eleven year old Drakey in the third row. In response, his child self tipped back his chair and bounced across the space. Drakey ripped the detention lines page out of the bully's book and stuffed it in his mouth. Then Drakey dashed back to pick up his chair and sit back down.

"Now _'that's'_ an anger management issue." Glomgold commented.  
"Looks like good timing to me!" Drake defended. So now he had all these random people of variously loose morals stomping through his memories casting their own unqualified judgements?

A moment later the teacher came back into the room.  
"That's a demon!" Scrooge declared.  
The teacher, short, curly light brown hair, a hot pink corduroy skirt and a dark grey blouse, came up the aisle. She checked on Drakey's line work.

Peru read over Drakey's shoulder. "I am not Darkwing Duck. What does that mean?"

"It means," Drake gestured to the bully in the back row, "this kid was probably acting out on some '_vulnerable looking kid_' trying to mind their own business and I interrupted him."

The teacher turned away from Drakey and went over to the bully's desk. "Very good, Roger, at least one of you is doing the right thing. You can go home."

"Do you see everyone with this after-imaging effect, Drake?" Fenton asked.  
"I'm sorry," Drake was confused, "what are you talking about?"  
"Never mind that now, Fenton," Scrooge hurried, "We have more serious issues to deal with right now." He nodded meaningfully towards Felldrake.

"I don't know how this is trust issues." Peru frowned, "I'm sorry."

Drake looked over to Felldrake. "Have you even studied psychology, Felldrake?"  
"No, Mystic-Theurgy-with-a-major-in-world-domination." Felldrake quickly answered, "Do you mind hurrying this up? I don't know why you've chosen to repress such a boring memory, but-."  
_"Why wouldn't I repress it?"_ Drake gestured to the scene, "It was _'school'!" _

Time ticked on the wall.

"But it's boring," Felldrake finished with a grumble, "Can't you at least 'caption' the event or something?"

Drake sighed in frustration. "If there's one thing school teaches you, it's that you can't make friends with everyone." Drake gestured to the teacher, "So I had rotten teachers. I just had to get over it and manage the situation the best I could."

Drakey got up from the table and handed his book to the teacher.  
"You certainly took your time." The teacher scolded. "Go on, go home. Unless you want to write more lines."

* * *

The empty classroom dissolved to a busy dressing room.

The sound of applause could be heard from the audience in the gym. The small high windows of the grey bessa block room were dark, showing it was nighttime outside.

Drake turned to the support group with a regretful sigh, "I'm sorry, guys. When I picked '_trust issues_' I didn't think I was going to trap nine innocent people into a blurry montage of the worst moments of my school life."

"Well done, everyone!" Drakey dressed in a Sherlock Holmes costume was smiling and congratulating the other kids for the performance.  
_"You made me mess up my lines, Sparky!"_ Finnigan complained.  
"Actually, Finnigan," Drake replied calmly, "Elmo said the right words, you-."

**"Drake!"** The teacher's voice cracked over his head. She had long black hair and a grey skirt and navy blouse.  
Drakey cringed and turned to face her.  
"Detention on Monday."  
"B-but I was jus-."  
"Still arguing? Detention Tuesday as well."  
Drakey's shoulder's slumped. "Yes, Mrs Diantra."

"That was confusing." Fenton frowned, "What did you do wrong?"  
_"You saw exactly what I did."_ Drake responded frostily.

* * *

The room dissolved to the principal's office. A woman in a white spotted dark blue dress stood beside the balding business suited man at the desk.

"This is a very serious situation, Drake." Principal Harggis said. "There's only one option left to try before we expel you."

"_Expel me__!"_ Drakey stared in horror at the principal and the doctor, "What did I do?!"

"You're always getting into fights with the other children." Principal Harggis stated.  
_"Only because the teachers don't do anything to stop them!"_  
"And you've been having a lot of trouble with your grades."  
_"It's not my fault the teachers hate me!"_  
He shook his head. "Now I've got to call your father to discuss your situation."

"_Dad's-gonna-be-so-mad!_" Drakey's eye's opened wide.  
"It's a serious situation, Drake. We're obligated to advise him of everything that's going on. Including your habit of blaming others for your problems. The teachers don't hate you, Drake; you're just a bad child and you've deserved every punishment you've gotten."  
Drakey slumped in the chair.

"I don't know what you expected, Drake. You're an utterly incorrigible child. You've completely missed the point of detention. If you're going to stay here, we're going to have to give you harder treatment. Now I want you to go with Doctor Yutal and do what she says. Any argument and I will expel you immediately. Take him in, doctor. I have to call his father shortly and I'd like to have at least one positive thing to say to him."

Doctor Yutal, in her blue dress, stepped to the anterior door to the Principal's right. "Just in the next room, Drakey."  
Drakey reluctantly stood up and followed her through. The door shut behind them.

_"They had me over a barrel!"_ Drake gestured angrily to the principal, "The minute I got home, my father was going to ask me: '_did you try to avoid getting expelled?_' Of course my answer had to be 'yes'." He turned to Felldrake, "This has to stop _immediately."_

* * *

The scene changed to the school basement.

"I said _no!"_ Drake glared at Felldrake.  
"You're the one who entered '_trust issues_' into the magic contract." Felldrake complained back.

_"My god!"_

"An _'unsolicited'_ magic contract." Drake glanced at the pods and machinery. "Stay out of the pods and you'll be fine." He said grimly.  
"How can you be okay with this?!" Fenton argued, "This is horrendous. Are they alive, are they dead, are you just-?"  
"The only thing alive in here is the support group." Drake gazed at Fenton.

Drakey struggled out of the pod cubicle of the machine and fell down onto the floor. He got up, looking around at the equipment and other cubicles. "Preena!" He exclaimed, "Roger!" He looked around, terrified, panicking, "Why-why... Dead... I can't... how could... _the teachers!_" He jumped at the final sight of the teachers lined up in pods at the far end of the room. Drakey bolted out of the basement.

* * *

The room changed to the study of the manor. Drakey was standing, looking very terrified.

"I always wanted to visit a castle." Julia commented.  
"What are we doing?" Drake complained, "I don't have a problem with my father." He glared at Felldrake, "So apparently I repressed this too?"

Drake's father Harold, wearing a light yellow shirt and green vest over it, stepped into the room, holding onto a yellow coloured leaflet.

"Drake, I'd like to talk about this."  
Drakey stood to attention. "Yes sir."  
"You've been a little moody and withdrawn these last few months, but I had no idea you were having this much trouble at school. Why didn't you tell me there was something wrong?"  
"I didn't want you upset."

_"I'm upset now!"_

Drakey frowned, his eyes lowering to the yellow leaflet. He looked ready to say something, but closed his beak.

His father raised the leaflet and flicked through. "I have... so many questions."  
"Yes sir." Drakey lowered his gaze to the floor.  
"How did you get a D in Drama? You had the leading role in that detective play and it went really well; the audience loved it."  
"I got my projection wrong," Drakey answered hollowly.  
"Your mother and I didn't have any trouble hearing you." Harold folded his arms.  
"I was '_too loud_' that time," Drake answered.

Harold paused. "You really have no idea, do you?"  
"Is it in my report card?"  
"No, that's hog-swill, son. I wouldn't burn your eyes with it."

"What about gym?" Harold said in an exasperated tone. "Why aren't you participating?"  
"I am!" He added. "I'm team captain."  
"Son, how does a team captain get a D?"  
"It's just the kids that pick the team captain, not the teacher."  
Harold shut his eyes for a long moment. "Drakey, just for a moment compare yourself against the other kids in Gerbus' class. How many of them are actually better than you?"  
Drakey shrugged uncomfortably. "Mr Gerbus compares everyone against their own special statistics chart so it's more fair."  
"Fair! _Where did he get your chart from? The back of a Superpig comic?_"  
Drakey cringed. "I-I don't know, sir."

"Alright. So that's about as far as the report card goes." He put it on the desk.

"So what about your assignments? You worked really hard on those things. Why didn't you hand any of them in?"  
Drakey looked up in a startle, "I did!"  
"Son, you don't get a D for putting in that much effort. Where's the one you did on sailing?"  
Drakey raced out of the room and came back with a folder.

"Here, sir." He said in a despondent tone, showing his father the page he'd opened the folder up to.  
"...Outdated term. Too wordy. Bad metaphor. Outdated phrase. Outdated terminology. Overall: D. What a sadistic perfectionist."

Drake glanced at Felldrake.

Harold flicked through the pages. "...'I can't read this... What is this? ...Wrong tense... Spelling... Grammar... Spelling on a _math_ test?!"  
_"I was in a hurry!"_ Drakey defended, "I didn't have space and the letters got smushed."

"What kind of marks do the other kids get?" Harold pointed to the folder.  
Drakey lowered his gaze again. "Elmo gets As and Finnigan gets Bs. They-."

_"Can we please skip this?!"_ Drake complained talking over his younger self. "All I'm doing is throwing excuses for the teachers."

"Do you expect me to believe any of those excuses?" Harold worked on containing his fury.  
"No, but I can't think of better ones."

Harold put the folder on the desk.

"Alright. So who were you fighting with today?"  
Drakey stared at his dad. "I haven't been in a fight with anyone for ages!"  
Harold let out a long exasperated sigh. "You got sent to the principal's office for something, son. What was it?"  
Drakey frowned, "Finnigan was complaining about his sandwich and the teacher heard me answering him."  
"So... you got expelled for commenting on a sandwich."

"Y-." Drakey stared at him, _"Principal Harggis said he wouldn't expel me so long as I had Doctor Yutal's treatment!"_

"What. Treatment. Drakey?" His father said in quiet venom.

Drakey pulled out from his shirt pocket some folded scraps of paper. "That's what I was talking to Elmo about when you came and picked me up, dad. He says it's a power converter battery thing. It looks like the teachers are feeding on brain juice somehow, but we can't figure out why they're plugged into the machine as well."  
"Where is this place?" Harold asked in a gruff tone.  
"I woke up in the school basement."  
"This explains everything!" His father exclaimed quietly to the page, venting annoyance.

"Not really." Drakey frowned, "For one thing, wouldn't brain juice be better from smart kids? Instead they picked me and Preena... Poor Preena."  
"It's not your job to bury the dead, son. Life is a war; always keep your eyes on moving targets."  
"Yes, sir." Drakey trembled.

"...I didn't know they were bad. I thought they were only mean to me."  
His father frowned, "I'm sorry, son, but you will never be anyone's first or only victim. These teachers have been manipulating you all year to make it look like you've been a bad kid. That way your disappearance from school had an explanation. Everyone thinks you were expelled, meanwhile you're getting eaten by this machine of theirs."  
"Oh." Drakey swallowed, "Wow."  
"I'm sorry I'm not a detective, son." Harold frowned, "All I could do was sit by the phone for hours, hoping someone would call back saying you'd shown up."  
"I'm okay." Drakey stated. "I just got a bit scared."

Harold smiled faintly. "How does Shinqua classes sound to you, Drakey?"  
"Do I have to give up Quack Fu?"  
"No, you can do both."  
"Keen gear!" Drakey smiled and gave him a hug.

"The class is tomorrow morning. You'll get to meet your new teacher, Master Flask, he's a very good person." His father smiled down at him, "He'll teach you how to 'be one with the shadows' and lots of other cool things. So bed time now so you'll be bright and awake for your first lesson."

"Thanks, dad!"  
"Sleep tight, son."  
Drakey hurried out of the room.  
"So much for _'that'_ birthday present." Harold muttered.

* * *

The scene changed back to the classroom, a duplicate of Mrs Cormichael was handing back test pages.

"You cheated!"  
Drakey turned to Finnigan. "You think I cheat to get straight Ds?"  
Finnigan pointed, "That says A+."  
Drakey stared at it for a long time. Then he got up, collecting his stuff.

"The class isn't over, uh, Drake."  
Drakey stepped past her, and wrote on the board.

_I am not Darkwing Duck._

Then he turned to her, scrunched up his test. He threw it in the bin and walked out of the class.

"That may have been an overreaction." Jose suggested.

"It was a bribe." Drake answered stonily, "My father brought in these duplicates to replace the teachers. Of course they'd try to be nice to me." Drake gestured to the board. "Who wants to be a hero, when it turns you into a cheat? I couldn't trust a single mark a teacher gave me. The only thing I could trust was my ability to kick a ball, and my ability to remember my lines."

"But..." Peru stepped up, "As an adult, you realise that real teachers don't manipulate the marking system and your father brought back the real teachers. You earned that A+."

"Yes." Drake answered. "That's true..."

"That was fun." Felldrake stepped up, "Now it's-."  
Drake jumped him and grabbed his hand with the amulet. "Sorry, Felldrake, I still have some trust issues: with you."

The room morphed, dissolving.


	10. Needs of the Few

_A/n: Sorry, long note responding to review. Skip down for the **bold** text title where story starts._

_Hi Sam,_

_That Jim Starling story __of yours __reminds me of _Star Trek _season 1 episode '_Court Martial_'. The young girl's name was Jamie. Anna is the name of a girl in a movie called_ Frozen._ I teared up reading the wiki page. So sad. _

_The 'prince in New York' stuff reminds me in part of a live action movie called _Enchanted_. I don't know why they wrote a movie of _Don Quixote_'s feverish fantasy instead of doing respectful social commentary like the book _Don Quixote_. __IMHO __the movie _Ella Enchanted _was much better. It didn't disrespect men or women. I felt like it was a genuine story about social equity while still being silly with its classic moustache twirling villain and historically inaccurate pop music fantasy adventure. Your idea also reminds me of _Shadow Hunters _on_ Netflix._ Seat belts, Mary Sue, this fantasy plot is set to ludicrous speed!  
_

_The Land of Oz (is Full of Horror and Tragedy)  
So I'm sorry I wanted to answer you briefly before because I wanted to give you a happy answer. The detailed answer is __'freaking Oz, man, geez. That grizzly queen witch still wants my head for her collection'. __A__ lot of people find my reaction hilarious, but little me is still very precious about not having my head cut off. Whenever someone says 'something something ... Oz ... something something', my brain's firewall goes up.  
_

_WARNING  
Tragic horror story concept ahead! Do you really want to go there?  
[Skip]  
_

_I am 100% prone to depressed miserable funks and totally capable of writing into those Oz inspired dark, depressing and horrific depths, but posting it is a different matter. If anyone really does want an M-Rated story, do PM me. _

_Your words suggest you want __something camp and upbeat, Sam, but you also want Oz. Oz. Happy. Wow..._

_VAPX007. exe  
Run-time error (__Juxtaposition):  
Negating arguments. Cannot form sentence.  
__[OK]_

_Don't get me wrong, Sam. 'I' have 'personal issues' with Oz, not your ideas. More people will read your fantastic __inspiring __reviews than they will the story you left them on. That's worth everything to me. I love that so much and I hope you leave more ideas or even better, have a go at writing them for yourself._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**75**

**The Needs of the Few**

* * *

The scene dissolved to open air. Soft rain was falling on the group. The attic roof was missing and so was everything they kept in the attic. There was a bow and arrow in Drake's hands and he was standing by a crenulation looking out on a prehistoric landscape. In the middle distance was a forest on fire. Far off a volcano was erupting. Between the castle and fire was a shallow creek.

"Where are we?"  
"My god, it looks prehistoric."

Drake fell back as a row of Mallards hooked bow and drew swords and guns.

"Stowaways."  
"Trespassers."  
"Burglars."  
"Bandits."  
"Brigands."  
"Outlaws."  
"Demons."  
"Evil warlocks."

"Uh, no-no-no!" Jose interjected, "We are... lost travellers. Looking only for a way home, away from this place."  
"Way away from this place." Panchito added.  
"Care to be explaining this, then?" Quack Mallardson held up the amulet.  
Felldrake gasped, "My amulet, how did you-."  
"Erm, he is not with us." Jose said apologetically.  
"No. He is a jerk." Panchito agreed.  
"A big jerk." Donald added.

"Lock 'em up." Police chief Drake Aaron Mallard ordered. "Sort 'em out later."

In another moment, the entire group had vanished before Drake's eyes. He looked out on the primordial landscape. A third person view on his deep subconscious.

"Some hero I am." Drake looked down at his clothes. He was in the Darkwing Duck costume. "Weird." He stated. "I've somehow slipped between the cracks in the memory. This must be how Felldrake was able to fix his gender issue. Shouldn't I still have Gosalyn with me?" He shook his head. "Must have something to do with the amulet changing hands to me."

"Now I have a moment: How do I end the magic contract?" Drake frowned. "Everyone gets a turn. I've had my turn, more than my turn... What happens on Felldrake's turn? A world dominating, magic missile casting, sadistic perfectionist gets free."

Drake went down and in to the castle.

* * *

On the landing he heard tiny crying and headed towards it.

Two hatchlings, egg shells still around them.

"Aw." He cooed at them and picked each one up. "So what's this part of my nightmare?" He cradled them and set them back in the crib.

A little girl and a little boy. They grew bigger as he watched. A little red dress, a little blue shirt. He picked them up out of the crib and set them down on the floor. They looked about ten years old now. They hugged him.

Drake blinked, watching as they finished growing. Justin's clothes changed to a magicians robe.  
"Justin." Drake slighted a smile, "I know you're only imaginary, but I still need your help."

Justin considered, "I can draw from the spirit link between you and Morgana."  
"Thank you." Drake turned to the other. "Raya. I'm sorry I haven't met you yet."  
She smiled back at him and faded out of existence.

* * *

The two of them headed downstairs and into the garage... stable.

Drake's memory collections had separated out Glomgold's few from Scrooge's few. Drake Aaron and Justin Arthur were guarding them.

Liam, Aaron and Quackmire stood, swords drawn, guarding Felldrake.

Quack, leaning against a wooden support, casually flipped the amulet to Justin, while the war veterans stood guard over everything with their army issue rifles, perched atop of hay bales.

"That's mine! Oh, this is ridiculous." Felldrake complained and threw a blast of purple energy at Justin.  
Justin caught it mid air and sent it back, freezing Felldrake. "If I could just have a moment of quiet."

For a moment's peace, Justin considered the amulet.

Felldrake unfroze himself. "Ha!" He teased, "Nah, nayh, it's binding! If you want to set everyone here including youself free, you have to set me free as well! And that involves-."

The stable dissolved around them.

* * *

They were now all on the front lawn of a large oppressive looking building.

Justin raised a large ball of blue green energy and hit Felldrake with it.  
"Argh! No fair, I-!"  
Justin hit him with a purple red ball of energy.  
"Stop-!"  
A yellow orange ball of energy.  
"No, wait, not-!"  
A grey black ball of energy.

Felldrake collapsed into a heap, a spurt of purple energy shot into the amulet. The midnight grass lawn dissolved back into the meeting room.

Drake dove and snatched the amulet as it fell to the floor.

"Felldrake." Drake raised it up to his eyes. "Donald, this is extremely volatile. We need a better containment. The only thing keeping him in there is his perfectionism. Plus I can't do any real magic."

_"That's okay."_ Donald took the amulet. _"I have something organised."_ He looked at Drake, _"Thank you for your help."_

Drake nodded to him.

Drake caught Glomgold staring at him.  
"Are you really a vampire like that fellow said?"  
Drake blinked back at him. "That depends. Who's asking and why?"

_"Uncle Scrooge, we really need to go now." _Donald interrupted.  
"Aye." Scrooge nodded to Drake and left after Donald, shortly followed by Peru.

Drake fell in step with Fenton.

* * *

They stepped outside.

"Fenton?" Drake stopped him, wanting to ask about the mysterious after-imaging stuff. When Fenton stopped and turned silently toward him, Drake realised he was definitely not Fenton's favourite person right now.

"I can't believe you grabbed that amulet, Drake!" Fenton took the moment to vent, "You only just finished telling _'me'_ to be careful! What was that amulet going to do in your hands? You didn't know; the entire group could've died in that first five seconds; especially with you being a vampire!"

Drake straightened.

"I didn't mean it like that, I was talking biologically." Fenton was instantly apologetic, "That amulet could've tapped a much less friendly part of your subconscious mind."  
"No." Drake answered simply. "Because the amulet works mnemonically and I was focused on stopping 'Felldrake the criminal'." He turned away and continued walking towards his motorcycle. "If you're in trouble, Fenton, you know who to call."

Fenton followed him. "Drake, I'm sorry that came out wrong. I know you're not like that, but after all the recent attacks you can't blame me for feeling jittery."  
"No, I'm blaming you for not telling me!" Drake raised his hands in supplication.  
"Me not tell you?"  
"You did scan me, Fenton."  
"I wasn't scanning you for that!" Fenton objected.

They gazed at each other for a long moment.

"Yeah, okay," Drake shrugged it off, "But I really need you to tell me things in the future. Help me make informed decisions, Fenton."  
"I'll go over your scans for you and send you an email on what I missed."  
"Thanks," Drake stated, "That after-imaging's got me worried all over again."


	11. Haunted Hunting

_A/n: __I had a complete brain drain yesterday. __To the four people who read the last page before I fixed the ending, here it is:_

_"You did scan me, Fenton."_  
_"I wasn't scanning you for that!" Fenton objected._

_They gazed at each other for a long moment._

_"Yeah, okay," Drake shrugged it off, "But I really need you to tell me things in the future. Help me make informed decisions, Fenton."_  
_"I'll go over your scans for you and send you an email on what I missed."_  
_"Thanks," Drake stated, "That after-imaging's got me worried all over again."_

_A/n: Happy Birthday, May! Hope it's a little like what you wanted._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**76**

**Haunted Hunting**

* * *

Webby, in her usual pink dress and grey sweater, looked over at Violet in her green shirt and black pants studying her map. The three were getting pretty tired of walking having done a cross town trek with their heavy backpacks. It was getting late and this was the final visit for the day.

"Let me have a look at that thing." Lena in her horizontally striped grey jumper and blue shirt took the map from Violet and considered. "We're going to which building in the university?"  
"There's been a lot of reports about the central building being haunted." Violet answered, pointing to the location on the map for Lena.  
"I don't know, Violet. That's technically not an abandoned building," Webby stated, "The president of the New Quackmore Institute lives there."  
"We'll just tell her we're ghost busters, Webby." Lena shrugged. "The worst she can do is say _'no'."  
_"Actually, that might just work." Webby agreed.

* * *

The girls came to the scariest house in the neighbourhood. It was a mansion standing tall, long, and forbidding. It had blue-grey shingle, small Gothic spires and Victorian style windows. Neatly trimmed topiary bushes framed the polished stairs leading up to the polished porch.

Lena knocked on the varnished wood of the front door.

A woman wearing the expression of Mrs Quackfaster opened the door. Unimpressed and looking slightly dead inside, the peacock wearing navy blue stared down at them through Dame Edna style thick black framed glasses. "Yes? May I help you...?"

"Hello, I'm Webby, this is Violet and Lena." Webby introduced cheerfully.  
"We're researching ghosts and other spectral phenomena." Violet stated seriously.  
"Eugenia Ferdinand," The peacock eyed their backpacks, "By all means, come inside."

Webby caught eyes with Lena for a moment before stepping inside.

_Score one!_

* * *

They discovered themselves in a giant hall. There were plinths around the room with various old things.

"This is the founding building of the Quackmore Institute." Eugenia detailed, "The great hall houses a museum collection."  
Webby gazed around at the relics lining the great hall across the black and white checkered tiling. Taking centre place, an early biplane hung from the second floor ceiling. Was it moving?

"Uh, Ms. Ferdinand, is there an open window in here?" Webby pointed to the plane.  
"No." Eugenia turned to gaze at where Webby was pointing. "Ah, yes. The Sopwith Camel circa 1917 was used during the First World War."  
"I'm pretty sure it's moving." Lena considered the plane swaying back and forward.  
"It's best not to give that one too much attention especially." Eugenia stated, ushering them towards the grand central staircase. "Let's move on." She pressed them to head up the stairs to the first floor.

* * *

"What's the story behind the hauntings, Ms Ferdinand?" Violet asked as they walked up the stairs.

"One of the original founders of the New Quackmore institute was Baroness von Sheldgoose." Eugenia answered, gesturing widely, "she did something to tie her ancestors to this place. The last paranormal investigator I had in said I needed to find the ghosts' personal effects in order to get rid of them... unfortunately I've never found anything of the sort and I've lived here ten years." They got to the top of the stairs.

"There's a lot of ancient artefacts downstairs." Lena gestured to the hall, "Could any of that be doing it?"  
"No. Believe me, I've looked." Eugenia stated and led the way up a hallway.

Webby, Lena and Violet walked along the hall, gazing at the unfriendly looking characters shifting and moving in the portrait frames.  
"What about the portraits?" Violet asked.  
Eugenia fidgeted. "I have attempted to get rid of them but the ghosts just keep bringing them back."  
"How many ghosts do you think are here?" Webby asked.  
"All of them." Eugenia answered, gesturing to the portraits they'd been passing.

Webby turned to look back at the pictures again. The hall behind them was filling up with ghosts, pulling themselves out of the paintings to slowly gang up on the party. Warbling music started playing from one of the nearby rooms.

"Huh..." Webby considered. "That one looks like a barbarian w-."  
"No time for that, Webby!" Lena exclaimed, grabbing her hand.

Violet grabbed Webby's other hand and they raced the last few steps into the room after Eugenia.

* * *

They were now in a corner study room. There was a large black writing desk and a wall portrait just the right size to keep a safe behind it. A large odd looking statue stood in the corner between the windows from both walls.

"Well, those guys woke up on the wrong side of the coffin." Lena breathed.  
"Technically that would make them vampires." Violet disagreed.  
Webby looked worriedly at Eugenia, "You don't have vampires in this place, do you? Just ghosts, right?"  
Eugenia paused thoughtfully.  
"Ms Ferdinand?" Violet asked.  
"No, no, not 'vampires'." Eugenia frowned.

Webby set to investigating the room. There was a suspiciously-sized circle in the tile design peeking out from under a side of the red rug. Even though they were upstairs, it could mean a secret trapdoor; circular stairwells didn't take up too much space. If she was correct, a trigger mechanism had to be nearby.

"What's under this room, Ms Ferdinand?" Webby asked.  
Eugenia paused. "The kitchen, cool-room and the pantry."  
"What about here, under this circle?" She pulled back the rug and pointed, "It's just the right size for a stairwell."  
"Oh, surely not; who builds their trapdoor upstairs?" Eugenia went slightly red in the face.

The four of them started looking for a trigger mechanism.

"Odds are," Violet stated, "We'll find the ghosts' personal effects in the one place you haven't looked."  
"Aha!" Webby advanced on the statue in the corner and tested to see one of the fingers bend. "The old mechanism in the statue trick." She spun around and they all watched as a set of spiral stairs appeared in the floor. "Classic."

"A descent into darkness." Violet considered their prospects.  
"I hope you don't mind but I think I'll stay up here with the ghosts..." A slightly shaking, Eugenia said, "I have presidential work I should be doing."

* * *

The three girls headed on down the stairs, fetching out their torches. Cobwebs lined their dusty path. After they'd reached the ground floor, the stairwell became a straight staircase.

Down and down they went. Around the corner, down, around the corner, down.

It felt like they'd been going down these steps for hours.

"I dread coming back up." Violet interrupted the sober rhythm of their footfalls.  
"This place isn't that old." Webby remarked, "I'm surprised there wasn't an elevator option."

* * *

The stair journey was interrupted with a straight passage.

"Guys." Lena stopped them and shined her torch on the wall, "I think we found it."

They looked. The wall was an array of pigeon holes filled with skulls.

"Wow!" Webby gazed in awe at the sight. "That's one heck of a passing ritual these guys have."  
"Well," Lena shrugged, "At least you know they're dead."  
"This definitely qualifies as 'personal effects'." Violet declared.

The girls started cleaning off the dust and cobwebs from the plaques and began reading them.  
"Death by swords,"  
"Death by poison,"  
"Death by swords..."

After a few, they turned to each other with wide eyes.  
"All violent deaths." Lena captioned.  
"And that's why they're hanging out here." Webby finished.  
"I think we have just enough space in here for the ritual." Violet stated calmly.

* * *

They took off their backpacks and started preparing the magic equipment.

"Just be sure to draw the triangles counterclockwise." Violet said, pulling out her book. Webby grabbed the sea salt bottle and started pouring the hexagram counterclockwise. Lena arranged the candles and lit them. She splashed holy water on the skulls and then once Webby was finished handed her a bundle of white sage.

Violet took a moment after the others had finished before reading out from her book.

_"For every ailment under the sun  
__There is a remedy, or there is none;  
__If there be one, try to find it;  
__If there be none, never mind it."_

She repeated the verse four times as Lena and Webby went clockwise around the circle, burning the bunches of white sage. Violet's voice echoed into the depths of darkness surrounding them.

Finally they stopped, the last of the sage burnt. The echoes of Violet's voice disappeared into the quiet darkness. Webby looked back at the cupboard of skulls. There was a definite peace and quiet in the place that hadn't been with them since arriving at the mansion.

They all smiled at each other.

* * *

The floor began to shudder.

"Webby, that was supposed to be counterclockwise!" Violet exclaimed.  
"I did do it counterclockwise! Are you sure that poem was the right one, Violet?"  
"Forget it, you guys!" Lena was frantic, "There's someone down here with us, and something tells me it's not a ghost!"

They backed up as a man's laughter echoed towards them. A presence.

"Thank you for that, girls," The man said, appearing from the darkness dressed in a purple robe, "I would have figured that puzzle out on my own eventually." He held up a purple amulet and hooked it around his neck.

"You're a Sheldgoose. Like the ghosts." Webby observed.

"Felldrake; though I am related, it's a long story." He rolled his eyes. "The highlight is, now I'm free." He smiled, "And just to be sure no Caballeros start foiling my plans again, let's everyone take another little trip with the Minds Eye."

Webby's vision went purple.

* * *

_A/n: Referencing Solitary Witch, Wiki How, Wiki, W.W. Bartley and Niebuhr's prayer. I was very surprised to learn that the Serenity Prayer is used to banish ghosts as well! _

_"God grant us  
the serenity  
to accept the things we cannot change,  
__the courage  
to change the things we can, __and  
the wisdom  
to know the difference."_


	12. Left Turn

_A/n: Hi Linda, t__hank you for your review!_

_1\. I think you're at least half lucky because it looked to me from the DuckTales September 2019 trailer that they're going crazy ham on the magic/avatar references in the next run of episodes. _

_An avatar is a manifestation of something that otherwise doesn't belong in this world. An accurate modern use of the word is when a person has 'an online avatar'. They can't actually be there, so they create an avatar to manipulate in their stead. You can do scary things with that idea. #Wizard of Oz_

_As for 'air-bending', I have already got that in my universes with my vampires having the ability to tap into elemental energy, giving rise (in this story's case) to the Fearsome Four's starting elements:_

_Bushroot: earth (+ve creative, constructive, -ve busy signal ++stamina) voted #1 most likely to help you with a problem you didn't think you had.  
__Megavolt: fire (+ve protective, passionate, -ve hot head ++animal magnetism) voted #1 most likely to start a civil rights revolution.  
__Liquidator: water (+ve patient, charismatic, -ve lurker ++persuasion) voted #1 most likely to sell a fridge to a penguin.  
__Quackerjack: air (+ve playful, logical, -ve loner ++__intelligence) voted #1 most likely to trounce you at Magic cards. _

_So, translating your idea into something I can relate to, that's me turning all the children into vampires..._

_2\. Speaking of grim, you've described the baseline premise for my story called 'Phantom Duck'. If you're interested, I could see about finishing uploading that story. Do let me know because otherwise 'I am the only one interested' and it stays in yWriter. I hate second guessing my stuff: I just want to be happy._

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**77**

**Left Turn**

* * *

Immediately on arriving at the staff room, Reginald Bushroot in his white lab coat found Professor Vina Forster working on her lecture notes.

Forster's brown hair was closely cropped in the back and four inches long in the front. Her bangs framed her face and square black-rimmed glasses. Today she was wearing grey pants and a diagonal blue and cyan vest under her lab coat. A large portion of her fall and winter wardrobe betrayed a silent obsession with blue stripes.

"Hi, Vina," Reginald sat down at his computer and booted it up before looking back to Forster.

She was staring at him. "Reggie? You look like a Mandragora."  
"Lycieae." He corrected.  
"Lycium are an untidy mess of branches."  
"And Mandrakes barely have a stem at all." He countered.  
"You're flowering like a Mandrake."  
"See my leaves?" He held out his hand to her. "I'm a shrub, arguably a very small tree because of my central column, but definitely not a root vegetable."  
"You're still in the same subfamily and you're probably just as toxic as you are irritable." Forster grunted. "You've got a serious case of seriousness today, Reggie."  
"I'm sorry."

She watched him. "I can't tell if all this has affected your personality or if you're just having an off day."  
"_I'm sorry_." He begged, frowning weakly. "It was a very long two weeks. All that Doctor Bellum talked about was superheroes. I was almost ready to believe her yesterday, and then last night I discovered she didn't just turn me into a plant, she also infected me with a super '_villain'_ compound!" He rubbed his face. "I'm messed up." He looked over his hands plaintively at Forster. "I would be at home, but I know you really need my help."

Forster frowned severely at him. "It gets to a point, though, Reggie, when the help isn't worth it. You don't amputate for a splinter. Go home. I will survive."  
"I'm honestly here to help you." Reginald felt stung.

She took a long breath. "You know what superheroes and super villains have in common, Reggie? Antagonism. Until you stop trying to validate that Bellum's point of view, you're going to think everyone's against you. Including me. I'm not against you: I just work here."

Reginald looked away from her.

"She's just wrong, Reginald, from start to end; and you're brainwashed." Forster sighed. "Look, I'll keep doing the lectures for the time being. You tackle as many emails as you feel up to. But I'd rather know you're getting yourself some professional help so please prioritise that."

She got up, gathering her notes and her laptop. "See you after class... but no pressure, okay? I'd rather know you're getting help."  
He nodded miserably at her as she left.

* * *

In between responding to student email queries, Reginald booked an appointment at the Careaway Clinic for the afternoon. This was the one Negaduck had said he'd taken Jacob to yesterday. Interestingly, Careaway was a privately funded genetic research clinic. Vampires were apparently interested in genetics.

There was a knock on the staff room door. Reginald answered it.

Two second year students stood staring at him. A girl called Roxanne with dark feathers and ringlet hair tied up in a pony tail. She was wearing a complimentary orange dress. Her broad shouldered male friend with brown spiked forward hair was wearing a St Canard University blue and red tartan sweater... Jerry, that was his name.

"Roxanne, Jerry." Reginald slighted a smile at the second year students. "How can I help?"  
"You look like 'you' need help, prof." Roxanne frowned pensively.  
Jerry frowned seriously. "Not an expert, Roxie, but I don't think there's much help he can get."

"No." Reginald agreed, "All I can do is diagnose and manage my symptoms." He shrugged, "What trouble are you two having with the course material?"  
Roxanne opened up her textbook.

* * *

After lunchtime, Reginald was back to emails. He was slightly distracted knowing his appointment was only a couple hours away and getting nearer.

There was another knock on the door. Reginald went to answer it.

Belladonna had golden blonde hair in a pony tail, a light pink blouse, white cardigan and blue jeans.  
"Belladonna." Reginald smiled at the third year student staring at him. "How can I help you?"  
Belladonna was slightly pink in the face and going redder. "I... don't remember."  
Reginald frowned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be distracting. Try thinking back. Was it 302, 312..., one of your recent lectures...?"

"Solanaceae, Nightshade, Lycium...?"

Reginald felt himself blushing for no apparent reason. "_Lyceum Nycanthropus Carnivorous_, actually."  
Belladonna's eyes opened wide. _"Exactly_ 'how' _are you carnivorous, professor?!_"  
Reginald swallowed, folding his vines across himself, "my captor decided to introduce a little vampire blood into the mix. I feel fine, so long as I don't 'think' too hard about it," he added with a touch of regret.  
Belladonna's breath hitched, "R-right."

"If you're a vampire, you should be able to track your pheromone output."  
Surprised, Reginald stopped, now staring at her. "S-sorry, what?"  
"You should be able to know what you're doing to me." She rephrased.  
"I'm sorry." Reginald automatically responded. "This has only just happened to me and I haven't had much time to adjust. I had no intention of acting unprofessionally."  
They stayed silently watching each other for a moment.

"If you can't remember your question, I guess you'll just have to send me-_us_ an email when you remember it later." Reginald advised, "I'm back now, and I'm doing my best to get on top of everyone's queries so it shouldn't be too long."  
"Yes, professor..." Belladonna blushed. "You're doing it again."  
Reginald's breath hitched. "I'm sorry... it's... for some reason it's..." He blinked at her, "you..."  
Belladonna stepped forward, grasped his shoulders and kissed him. Reginald relaxed into the sensory pleasure, not realising how much he'd been needing this. Needing her. Then she backed up, silently turned and headed up the corridor.

Reginald let out a sigh and shut the door. He sat down to watch the clock, his mind newly clouded with the colours of blue, pink and gold. What just happened and how could she be so perfect _and_ beautiful?

Slow realisation crept up through his thoughts, making him hide his face in his hands. "I'm evil."

* * *

The Careaway Gene Clinic was a small, single level building with square windows, cream coloured cement walls and a slanted roof. It stood low against a backdrop of skyscrapers. A yellow-leaved poplar and a deep green conifer tree stood in different corners of the neatly kept box hedge garden. Seeing grass despite being so close to the inner city was always quite a pleasant treat.

Inside, the building looked much like any regular health clinic with magazines, a small toy collection, cushioned waiting chairs and blue toned art prints. He walked up to the brown haired receptionist.

"I'm Doctor Reginald Bushroot. I have an appointment with Doctor Kitrine." He announced himself to her.

A man with dark fur and dark eyes came up the hall to regard him. "Doctor Bushroot."  
Kitrine led him up the hall and gestured him into an exam room.

"That woman has to be completely insane." Kitrine remarked, sitting down behind the desk. "How many of you were there?"  
"There were four of us," Reginald frowned, "And I believe we're all infected with that vampire's blood. I was hoping you could give me some scientific information to help us get a head start on what we're dealing with."

Kitrine paused. "Let's start with symptoms. Have you said or done anything you felt retrospectively was odd?"  
Reginald gazed at him. "Yes. It was like... Like I was a left turn trolley."  
"It's the colony of vespers you're hosting. They mainly fight viral infections, but they also store host behaviour data." He looked at Reginald. "For such times that they arrive at a new host who can't handle a situation without their help."

"I knew exactly how to handle that situation, doctor!" Reginald retorted, "I didn't need help."  
"I can't answer you." Kitrine shook his head. "It's a perfect example of why you need to find your sire. He can give you answers so you can avoid situations like that happening to you again in the future."  
"The only situation was the one my vespers created." Reginald scoffed. "If they're acting on 'his' historical data, then that just goes to show you how much he cares about people." Reginald repeated with definition, "my sire's evil."

* * *

"I-I'm sorry. I really hoped that wouldn't be the case." Kitrine sat, gazing unhappily at Reginald. "Look, I know you can't forgive yourself for what you did, but you have to realise you're a fledgling. You're adapting to being a vampire, your vespers are adapting to you and you're all having a hard time of it."

He sighed, "My best suggestion is to focus your efforts on getting small and regular meals. Nothing guarantees a trouble free time, but what you're looking to do is build your vespers' confidence in your ability to manage situations. This way, on those odd occasions when you have to abandon a meal opportunity, your vespers won't go into an immediate panic state. You have to show them you're reliable."

_They wanted him to_ 'eat'_ Belladonna?_ Reginald felt aggrieved. "I'll let the others know. Thank you for the advice."

"In light of..." Kitrine swallowed, "In the absence of your sire, there is a way to get a gauge on your vesper conditioning. The test isn't pleasant, but it'll help you understand how they're expecting you to behave."  
Reginald nodded.

Kitrine circled the desk, He put restraints around Reginald's torso and arms.  
"This is giving me bad memories." He remarked.  
"It's only for a minute."

Doctor Kitrine lodged a large and unpleasant contraption in between Reginald's beak. There was a gradual pressure building in his head, a sudden scream of pain and a dull ache.

A few moments later and Kitrine plied the device out from his beak with a smaller shout of pain. Reginald sank back in the chair, his head spinning. Completely ignoring Reginald's discomfort, Kitrine roughly undid the straps and went to the equipment beside his computer station.

Reginald watched him for a moment as the memory of pain subsided. "Y-you took..."  
"A venom sample, yes."

Reginald sat in stunned horror. He had venom. He gingerly tested his tongue against the sheaths in the roof of his mouth. There was a reminder twinge of the earlier pain which made him flinch and shut his eyes. He felt his breath hitching. That hadn't been pleasant at all. Why; had he thought it would be? There was a residual taste of plastic in his beak. It was feral and repelling.

"Have you ever pulled anyone's teeth out with that thing?" Reginald considered how brutal it'd felt.  
"Once, back in the nineteenth century when I was doing my cross section." Kitrine started the printer. "It was a hollowed, so you know there wasn't much of him before I interfered."  
Reginald shuddered.

Kitrine handed him a piece of paper with a brightly coloured stack chart. Blue, red, green, yellow, all in equal portions. "Reading this," Kitrine pointed, "your most active constituent is persuasion. You'll find your sire very talkative."

"Negaduck said my sire wasn't a talker." Reginald sighed. "You always have to check when people don't cite references."  
"From what I know of Negaduck," Kitrine shrugged, "he's not the kind who can be persuaded or seduced."

Reginald swallowed in resounding horror, looking at the red section. That was exactly what his vespers had done to poor Belladonna. "How far does this guy go to win an argument? Do you have an av-."  
Kitrine handed him another page.  
"Thanks." Reginald looked from the average to his. "So now seduction's at the bottom. That doesn't make sense."

Kitrine handed him four more pages, "Red, blue, green and yellow category vampires make up over ninety percent of our population."  
Reginald looked at the various charts. "They're all very different."  
"It's fascinating, isn't it? A simple colour code on who you do and don't get along with and why."

Reginald gazed at the other coloured charts compared to his own. "Is it possible for someone to get out of category? Like, what if you took up body building?"  
"No. Only black category vampires cross-skill."  
"So... I can't go from black to green, or you from blue to green?"  
Kitrine shook his head. "Black category. I don't know why; you'll have to talk to a psychologist. There are plenty in the Hamil Corp building."  
"Okay," Reginald tidied the reports into a pile. "What else can you tell me about black category vampires?"

Kitrine shrugged. "You're a chameleon. You have a very low breed rate. I don't know why that is; there is definitely nothing wrong with your venom."  
Reginald cringed at the mention of biting, "th-thanks."  
Doctor Kitrine stood up and led him out of the clinic.

* * *

That dusk, Reginald drove over to south side and found the warehouse Negaduck had told him. Armed with a folder full of notes and Kitrine's reports, Reginald joined Negaduck's meeting.

"So introductions," Negaduck fired off, "Bushroot, Megavolt, Quackerjack and Liquidator, I'm Negaduck, let's move on. We're after a vampire dressed in purple, he's an easy grab if we work together, we screw it up and we're dinner. That's the grand scheme; all we need are the details."

Reginald spoke up, "the doctor was able to give me a reading sheet." He lined the two reports out along the table, "ours is on the left. He gave me some other reports, but those are other kinds of vampires."  
"Oh!" Liquidator said in delight, "Do show us the others, enquiring minds want to know!"

Reginald laid out the other reports alongside the first two. "These are just for reference to the larger population of vampires living in St Canard." Reginald explained.

"Wh-but how can we know the kind of tricks he'll pull? Quackerjack asked.  
"All of them!" Negaduck stated.  
"But that's only if the tricks he likes to pull don't work." Reginald countered. "First he'll try convincing you, then he'll sweet talk you, then he'll outwit you and if none of that works," he looked over at Negaduck, "Then he'll beat you with brute strength."  
"How'd you find all this out?" Quackerjack asked in innocent curiosity. "The doctor wouldn't tell _'me'_ anything."  
Reginald flinched and picked up the first chart, "because you didn't have your venom tested." He felt everyone staring a him, "What do you guys know?"

"It's affected each of us differently," Quackerjack answered quietly, "I guess it's because of everything else that's been done to us. Your body has gone through a lot of changes, so it makes sense you've been fully turned."  
Reginald flinched. "You say 'turned' like I'm supposed to have changed my mind or something."

Negaduck looked between them all, "What about you, Megavolt? You feel yourself losing it too?"  
Megavolt frowned at him. "No, but ask me a few more times, Negaduck."  
Quackerjack sat down on the crate opposite him. "Any chest pains?"  
Megavolt shook his head.  
"Existential pondering?" Liquidator asked.  
"No more than usual," Megavolt shrugged with an air of mystification, "I don't understand what you guys are talking about. All my isssues are to do with electro-conductivity."

"You're lying." Reginald gazed at Megavolt. "You don't trust us. That's exactly what that vampire's blood does: it turns you against the very people trying to help you. It creates antagonism."  
"The antagonism's already there, Bushroot." Megavolt answered, "do you really have no idea who you're standing in the room with? Negaduck wants us to fight Darkwing Duck. Why? Because, newsflash, Neg-."

Reginald's vision of Megavolt suddenly went purple.


	13. Teen Duck

_A/n: Dear Linda: You're essentially asking me to write a low-key version of _Phantom Duck_... But I've already written_ Phantom Duck. _[I have refreshed the blurb, maybe that helps?] __  
_

"Sanity is a question of degrees, dad. He only looks sane to you; he actually isn't."  
\- Scarlet (Gosalyn) to Phantom Duck regarding Quackerjack.

_Changing the culprit to the Fearsome Five, it's still __the 'LP dies and DW suffers' idea (i.e. Phantom Duck)__._

'He picked up the pretty thing that stood glistening in the dark and left the three hundred dollars on the counter. "Keep the change... On second thoughts, I'll need some juice to fire this baby up." He took back thirty dollars from the bundle and walked out of the store.'

_I get you may not like the other elements I wrote into that story: vampire apocalypse, Mayor Steelbeak, Bushroot's dramatic backstory, etc... __But that was the stuff I needed to come up with in order to make the Phantom Duck premise into a whole story._

"What possessed you to hire Grizlykoff?"  
Steelbeak sighed. "He's good with paperwork."

_I suggest you have a look through the DWD archives, Linda; I'm not the only one to have written into the Phantom Duck theorem; I'm just the most conceited to have named an entire story after him._

"Allow me to introduce myself!" The masked mallard appeared out of the shadows. "I am the Tenor that Sings in the Night! I am-."

* * *

**Mind Warp**

* * *

**78**

**Teen Duck**

* * *

Gosalyn and Honker had saved up their allowances, bought their tickets and had waited for what seemed a long time for the night when they could go see Teen Duck. Gosalyn's mum dropped them off at the standing zone outside the theatre. The pair stepped out, Gosalyn wearing her light purple dress and Honker wearing his grey suit and green tie. They waved Jane off. After taking a moment to appreciate the cement and inner city feeling around them, the best friends went inside.  
"This is going to be excellent." Gosalyn quietly voiced her feelings.

The first order of business was to visit the drinks stand. "Come on, Honker." The pair were just early enough that the queue was quick. The most popular drink for the night was pink lemonade so, not knowing or caring for anything different, Gosalyn decided to try it as well.  
"Pink lemonade, thanks."  
"Me too, please." Honker added his order.

The waiting lounge with the great long row of floor to ceiling windows looking out to the south. The tired turquoise carpet made Gosalyn feel like she was standing on a 1990s cartoon covered in colourful squiggles, ovals and triangles. Honker went to the windows to look out on the sunset creeping over the sky. Gosalyn went to join him.

Gosalyn appreciated Honker had a bustling brain which kind of disconnected his mouth sometimes, but lately there were these moments when Gosalyn wondered if her feeling of guilt had anything to do with him being quieter than usual.

"Life is weird." Honker announced quietly to her.  
Gosalyn sucked on her straw. "I'll say." That was about all she could say, really. Their off-school teacher was a vampire.

"Can you believe they just moved here?"  
"Oh, them." Gosalyn realised he was talking about her older self from the other universe, "Well, I'm pretty sure she came here to kick butt."  
Honker snorted, "Yeah."

He didn't add anything to that comment.

"What's the deal, Honker?"  
He shrugged. "I'm just worried you're upset about it."  
"No, why would _'I'_ be upset?"  
"Because-you-saw yourself-married-with-four-kids?"

Drat, drat, drat! Darn it, it _'was'_ her feeling of guilt. "You're not worried about me being upset, Honker," Gosalyn defended darkly; "you're _'jealous'!"_  
"Um..."  
"You know, Honker, I'm okay with getting into trouble for things I've actually done, or at least when I really can't avoid it, but I'm not _'her',_ Honker. We're both doing our own thing. It's just... maybe sometimes it's the same thing. Like twins, we like..." Gosalyn saw the look of low-level triumph on Honker's face and snapped her beak shut.

"You don't have to be so smug about it." She snorted as he stifled a giggle. Man, he was still acting el bizarro. Shouldn't this be upsetting him?

"I'm not jealous." Honker stated plainly and sipped his drink.  
Gosalyn sighed, "Well, that's a relief." Maybe they could just be normal about it then?

"I think it's really weird that she got married." Gosalyn stated. "I didn't think I'd ever do that."  
"Grown ups." Honker declared. "They must make..." He stopped, his eyes focusing behind her.  
"What, Honk?" Gosalyn turned around.

* * *

A family say down at the table just before their quiet window. A woman and three boys that looked like triplets. They were all dressed super-duper nice, but Gosalyn noticed the woman had a robotic leg.

"That ice cream had to be the best." The boy with the blue tie said.  
"Still as good as I remember as a kid." Their mother declared with a pleased smile.  
"Can you believe Jojo sold out to Kala? I for one did not see that coming." Red tie said.  
"Pfft, you should start reading the news more Huey. Then you'd know it wasn't a sell out; it was a merger." Green tie corrected not half-conceitedly. "Hence the rebranding: Jojo-Kala?"

_Blah, blah, blah, out of towners, blah, blah, blah._ Bored in the matter of moments, Gosalyn turned back to Honker to see his face had gone very pink.

* * *

Honker turned back to the window with an unsteady breath.  
Great, Gosalyn frowned, now he was put off. That left her to figure it out herself. Grown ups. "They must make... Great pie?"  
"A good team." Honker finished, quietly to her reflection in the window.

Gosalyn's face went bright red. "You think you're him?"  
"Affirmative." Honker nodded. "We're separate instances of the same person."

"You're..." Gosalyn's argument fell away into confusion.

"Rosie looks like my cousin Hilda."

Gosalyn felt her blush grow even hotter. Family albums, family reunions. Honker looked a lot like his mum and his mum was a twin. It was probably a given for him. But that was besides the point. For them to get married...

_"I don't know how many times I've said this to you, Honker, but you have_ 'got'_ to stand up for yourself!"_ Gosalyn gritted. "That includes _'me'_ not pushing you around _'too'."_  
"Um..."  
"What?"  
Honker pursed his beak. "I'll bet three months of allowance that you're the one who said 'yes'."

He asked her? Gosalyn snapped her beak shut from the shocking idea. "I dunno, Honker, that would be a pretty gutsy thing for you to do."  
Honker hesitated. "Indeed."

"Would you be jealous if I dated someone else?"  
"Well, _'now I know all that'_ yes, obviously." Honker snorted delicately. "I'm not saying you can't, of course." He added soberly.  
Gosalyn gazed at him. "Wow." He was one in a million.  
"Just because something's logical, doesn't mean it's set in stone. Besides, whoever they are, they'll probably just add to my case." He said with an air of propriety.  
Gosalyn pursed her beak. "You're still acting a little bit weird."  
"I '_know'_," Honker answered plaintively, "I keep seeing myself as a vampire. I've even turned off cereal; I've just been having fruit for breakfast."  
Gosalyn could appreciate that, "What about oats? Mr Mallard has oats in his kitchen."  
"Gosalyn, I'm not actually a vampire..." Honker responded with flat seriousness.  
"I know, I'm just trying to help." Gosalyn answered innocently.

* * *

The waiting lounge was filling up and getting noisier with every passing moment.

"You two didn't come with an adult?" The mother of the three asked from the table.  
Gosalyn turned to the mother sitting at the high table with her three boys. "We're adult enough." She declared.  
"They're on a da-ate."  
"Oo-oo."

After the discussion just now, Gosalyn's retort caught in her throat as the boys jeered and teased them. They 'wanted' her to respond in denial because that was the game. "You're just jealous that you're too boring to have your _'own'_ girlfriends." She threw back at them.

There was a stunned moment's silence.  
"Boring? I, the host of Dewey Dew-Night, _'boring'?"_ The blue one uttered in shock.

That started them off. The grin on Gosalyn's beak was so wide she couldn't say anything more.

"Pfft. Do you even know who we are?" The green one challenged.

"Yeah." Gosalyn pointed at them, "Three jealous boys who still need their mummy to protect them."  
"That is not true!" The red one jumped down in aggravation.  
"We can too look after ourselves." The blue one agreed with his brother.

"Boys." Their mother reigned in. "I'm Della Duck, these are my sons, Huey, Dewey and Louie."  
"Honker Muddlefoot and Gosalyn Waddlemire." Honker returned from behind Gosalyn. "We were conjugating on a multiplicative timeline phenomenon and how random events may diverge one's life experiences from someone who otherwise would be identical to you."

Della blinked back at Honker.

"Geek." Louie scoffed.  
"Loser." Gosalyn countered.

"Have you met actual real life copies of yourselves?" Dewey asked in interest.  
"Yep." Gosalyn answered, "But they're way older than us."  
"Super creepy." Dewey stated.  
"And they're vampires." Honker added.  
"Why is everything about vampires lately?" Louie objected.  
"Because," Gosalyn explained calmly, "That's how vampires work. Once you've met one vampire they start popping up everywhere."

"What is that...?" Della's eyes turned to the window.

Gosalyn turned around. A purple haze was spreading towards them. She pulled out her phone.

**Stadium purple haze help**

**Looks like an area of effect**

The haze spread into the building and Gosalyn's vision turned purple.


End file.
